blac-ivy - Tumblr blog

blac-ivy · 26 days ago

Text

*screaming*

This is so cute😭😭💞

I WANT AN INNOCENT LOVE

.☘︎ ݁˖

──────────────────────

alexandria! rick grimes x fawn! fem! reader

masterlist | kofi

summary: you’re a new addition to alexandria. Rick’s just looking out for his group. That’s the only reason he finds himself drawn to you. Nothing else.

cw: LEGAL age gap (it is big, i imagine reader in her early 20s) canon typical depictions of violence, Rick is kinda mean to reader at first, Rick kind of struggles with the age gap a little, dom! Rick, slight possessive rick

tags/tropes: shy and skittish reader, she’s not used to dealing with people but she’s not helpless, honestly she’s just a sweet and soft person who became what everyone becomes in the apocalypse, hurt/comfort, insecurity, touch-starved reader a bit, YEARNING, no saviors or whisperers just Rick and everyone living happily in alexandria. Daryl is also here and he’s kind of like ur uncle bc i love daryl and i say so

a/n: i have nothing to say other than this is so insanely self indulgent it’s not even funny. nobody asked for this but writing it has kept me sane while i’m couch ridden. everything is terrible rn but rick grimes <3333

songs i listened to while writing: We'll Never Have Sex by Leith Ross, Work Song by Hozier (Rick's theme song) you were mine by Esha Tewari, Do I Wanna Know- Hozier's Cover, Somethin' Stupid by Nancy & Frank Cinatra, Lover, You Should've Come Over by Jeff Buckley (i'm so not normal about that entire album) Under Your Spell by Snow Strippers, Little Bit by Lykke Li (the original not the remix)

title taken from Under Your Spell by Snow Strippers

──────────────────────

₊ ⊹❀

You were just a little thing when you showed up at the gates.

All wide-eyed and skittish at the tree-line, clothes hanging awkwardly off your frame. Scuffed and dirty, when Rick goes up to the tower to scout you out.

You don’t quite come close enough for anyone to get any kind of information on you. Name, age, where you’ve been, what you’re doing at the gates.

These are all questions Rick, as leader, needs answers to.

If he could just convince you to get close enough.

Under different circumstances, he’d just let you do whatever it is you’re planning on doing, but the lurking is starting to make people uneasy. And he figured he ought to do something to ease their concerns. Easiest way is to either get you inside the walls or find answers to those questions.

You’re real good at staying out of reach, though. And you never stay in one place for long. By the time two weeks have gone by, you’ve made it around the entire length of the walls. Just to end up right where you started: the gates.

It’s just past the crack of dawn- dew is still lingering on the plants and grass and the sun’s rays have yet to actually provide warmth. Rick is up, making his rounds and checking in when one of the guards on rotation lets him know that you’re at the gates. Only time you’ve ever been that close.

So they’re opened, and you amble in— light-footed and unsure. Honestly, you remind him a bit of Daryl with your obvious hesitance to be in the company of other people and clear inclination towards nature. But where Daryl is hard edges and reclusiveness, you’re… softer.

A small group of people —curious onlookers, mostly— forms behind Rick as he saunters towards you, and he watches the moment you see the reality of your decision and begin to regret it.

He comes to a stop a few feet away from you, letting the silence hang in the air for a bit.

He finally takes you in with his own two eyes, without the aid of the binoculars, and he examines. Catalogs the nervous twitch of your hands and scuffs and scrapes he can see on the visible scraps of skin. Eyes the way you worry your lip between your teeth and can’t decide if you’re going to keep staring at him or look away- your mind clearly torn between vigilance and submission.

“You finish your tour of Alexandria?” He asks dryly.

You blink up at him, eyes wide. “Are you the leader of this safe-zone?”

He nods. “Sure am.”

You begin fiddling with your fingers absentmindedly. The small motion draws his attention back to your hands, where me notices bandaids practically covering the entire surface of your skin. He files the information away in his head for later.

“Are you currently accepting new members?”

He can’t help but crack a smile at your question. The way you phrase it and your nervous demeanor remind him so much of the times before the dead started walking— you look like a college student looking for a job, not somebody trying to find refuge here, after the end of the world.

“Depends,” He rests his hands on his hips, and he notes the way your eyes dart to the gun at his side before back up to him, “You got any skills to offer? You alone? Or do you got a group waitin’ for you?”

Your lip is raw from where you release it from your teeth.

“I’m really good at mending. I’m a proficient hunter. I can hold my own in a fight. And I’m alone.”

At the admittance of your lack of company, you shift back a few steps, a subtle re-distribution of weight.

Ain’t been socialized a whole bunch, Rick thinks to himself. He’s willing to bet you either don’t have a lot of positive experiences with large groups of people or you just plain ain’t been around em’ much.

He hums. “You killed anybody?”

“Walkers or live?”

“Either.”

You shift your shoulders. He’s starting to wonder just how many nervous actions you have.

“I don’t think anybody lives alone who hasn’t killed walkers.”

“And the living?”

You don’t move, but your eyes look to the ground, not at him.

Shame. Fear.

“Twice.”

“How come?”

“They wanted my supplies. Wanted me dead. I decided I didn’t want to die.”

He looks you over again. You really are a cute little thing. He thinks, absentmindedly in the back of his head, that something like you shouldn’t have bloody, bandaid covered hands. Shouldn’t have a kill count.

But he dismisses the thought. The end of the world leaves no room for those unwilling to do what’s necessary.

He dips his head. “We’ll get you settled in,” He jerks his head to the some of the guys behind him. “They’ll get you sorted out. Get along, now.”

You slink past him, distance carefully measured as you go.

Your eyes don’t quite leave him, though. There’s a moment- either you pause or his mind slows. Maybe a bit of both. But the air stills, and your gaze locks on him for the first time since he saw you, nestled in that tree line. The memory is clear and vivid- the sun shining through the trees, dappling you in shades of amber and grey. And then he’s here, and you’re looking up at him, eyelashes fluttering, and the sun has risen just enough that it casts a similar glow, the only difference now he can see up close just how the light catches on your face, just how he knows your features would look so different, so much softer if you were cleaned, if someone minded the cuts and scrapes.

And then you step away, and he snaps out of his reverie. He blinks a few times at your retreating form, shakes his head, and then busy’s himself with other work. There’s always something to be done.

But no matter how hard he tries, he can’t get the image of you gazing up at him, bathed in the early morning sun out of his mind.

—

A few days pass, and Rick sees little of you. He’s almost positive it’s on purpose. The few times he does see you, you look scared. And then, generally, you manage to make some sort of fleet-footed escape. The repeated spotting and fleeing reminds him of the time he accompanied Daryl on a hunt and startled a doe.

He can’t quite figure out why you’re afraid of him, though. He remembers being fairly decent to you when you arrived, and tried coaxing you towards the gates politely before you’d shown up on your own.

The sight of your scared expression ends up stuck fast in his head, usually super-imposed over the image of you on that morning at the gates. Two different versions of you, neither making any sort of sense.

He decides that it’s probably best that he stick away, if he scares you. You’ll settle, your ruffled feathers’ll smooth.

And he’ll stop thinking about you.

—

Neither do you settle or does he stop thinking about you.

He watches you from a distance, careful. You just… don’t relax. Ever. You creep away from every possible opportunity to connect with others like it might grow jaws and bite- you shrink back or freeze. Like you think if you play dead, if you don’t move, they’ll leave you alone.

He’s wondering what you hoped to accomplish by seeking refuge in Alexandria if this is how you act. You’re going to have a bad go of things if this is your plan. Or maybe you plain haven’t even thought that far.

He snags Daryl’s arm as he passes by.

“Wha—“

“The new girl,” Is all Rick says, still watching you remarkably avoid everyone who passes you. “She’s real skittish.”

Daryl follows his eyeline, finding you easy enough.

“Mm. She ain’t settlin’?”

“No.”

Daryl just hums again. “Well, she ain’t got nobody, does she?”

“So?”

The hunter shrugs. “Can’t relax. Ain’t got nobody to watch her back, take a watch. She’ll settle. Might take her a bit of time.”

Rick huffs. “She’s afraid of me.”

“No she ain’t,” Daryl snorts, “And since when does Rick Grimes care whether other people like him well enough?”

Rick doesn’t respond, just keeps watching you.

Daryl follows Rick’s gaze, then breathes out a low sigh.

“She is a pretty little thing, ain’t she?”

“That is not what this is about.”

Daryl levels him with a look. “Sure it’s not.“

“She’s half my age. I could damn well be her father.”

“But ya ain’t.”

“That isn’t the point.”

“Then what is the point, Rick?” Daryl sighs again, crossing his arms. “Either do something about it or move on. You got too many people dependin’ on ya for you to be eyeing up flighty young girls.”

Rick rolls his shoulders. “You make me out to be such a creep.”

The other man claps him on the shoulder. “Then stop acting like one.”

He attempts to take Daryl’s advice to heart. It’s an annoying truth that Daryl always knows exactly what Rick needs to hear. Not necessarily what he wants to hear, but what needs to be said.

And he is being creepy. He shakes his head as he walks away. Watching you, thinking about you. He can’t. That’s— you’re too young to be thinking any kind of thing like that.

No matter how there’s this half second, before you look scared, where you almost look relieved. No matter how he wants to personally take care of the bumps and scrapes on your face, wants to take off the bandaids and examine what’s beneath them.

Daryl was right. He needs to focus. Carl, Judith, everyone- they need him.

You’ll be fine. He’ll be fine.

—

You’ve gone missing.

Rick has been doing his best to heed Daryl’s advice— he stopped looking for you in the crowds, stopped trying to figure you out, stopped watching you from afar. He even made a fairly decent attempt to stop thinking about you. Not that the effort proves especially fruitful, but he tried, damnit.

All of those efforts go straight out the window when Daryl tells him that no one’s seen you since yesterday.

It takes him two seconds to grab his gun and follow Daryl out the door.

He barely remembers to tell Carl where he’s going, which scares him, because he doesn’t quite understand what’s been so invasive to his mind and day-to-day activities about you. Your eyes, the soft curve of your cheek, how you might feel in his hands.

They cloud his judgment. Make him do stupid reckless things like search Alexandria high and low for any sign of you.

He doesn’t find any. He searches the place you’re staying— nothing. Only sign of life is the unmade bed and bandaid wrappers in the trashcan by the bed.

He sighs deep and low as he stands over your bed. “Think she had enough? High-tailed it?”

Daryl leans against the doorway. “Nah. She likes it here well enough. She ain’t stupid enough to leave a good thing like this.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You’ve spoken to her?”

Daryl shrugs. “Few times. She don’t like talkin’ too much, but I think she figures her and I similar.”

“She wrong?”

He scratches his beard. “A little. She fears situations and people the way a prey animal does. S’ why she’s a runner.”

Rick mulls Daryl’s words over as they scan the rest of the place but, of course, find nothing. There are no signs that you, specifically, live here. Nothing personal. Just the unmade bed and the bandaid wrappers in the trashcan.

The pair of them turn the entirety of Alexandria over in a matter of hours. He’s just about to call it quits, either wait for you to come back or send out a search in the morning when Daryl comes back over, telling him you’re at the gates.

As in, outside of them.

Opposite of how things went when you first showed up at the gates, people clear a path as he stalks towards you. They give the pair of you a nice, wide bubble. Even Daryl stays a few feet behind him.

The first thing he notices is that you’re covered in blood. From the way you’re holding yourself, most of it isn’t your own. There’s a backpack slung over your shoulder, but it’s not your usual one.

You won’t meet his eyes.

He stops an arms length away from you. “Where the hell were you?”

You shift backwards, away from him ever so slightly. “Scavenging.”

“Mhm, interestin’,” He says, rubbing his jaw, “Because the last scavenging party was yesterday. And you came back with everybody, so I’ll ask again. Where were you.”

Your eyes flick up from the ground for a moment, eying the people that have gathered to stare. He watches you mentally count them all, then attempt to put more distance between yourself and everybody else. Emphasis on attempt, because the second you take a step back, you stumble, wincing before righting yourself and going right back to scanning the crowd.

He works his jaw, anger and annoyance simmering just under the surface of his skin. He’s not going to get anything out of you here.

He grabs your wrist and turns, set in the direction of the medics.

He drags you along behind him, ignoring the little huffs or sharp intakes of pain when you walk a little too hard or too fast on your bad ankle.

You trip a few times as you go, and when you almost take Rick down with you, he sighs, pausing and turning.

The expression you give him is full of fear. He realizes, in the moment, that you might not remember where the medics are, so as far as you know, he’s angry at you and dragging you to a secluded area.

Guilt strikes him hard and fast, right in his chest.

Damn.

It’s too early to feel guilty about the random girl he allowed into Alexandria. Frightened eyes and shy nature aside.

He shakes his head once. “We’re going to see a doctor. Here, put your arm around me.”

He has to lower himself a little for you to drape your arm across the back of his neck. Your fingertips brush his shoulder, and he can feel the way you’re shaking.

It’s slow going from then on, with Rick acting as your crutches.

“Where were you? And don’t bullshit me.”

“Scavenging.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes,” You nudge the backpack still strapped to your back. “I was… looking for something. I can’t look for it with the others.”

“What the hell is it that you can’t look for it with the others?”

“A body.”

Your response hangs in the air, thick and heavy.

“…Family or friend?”

“Friend. Haven’t found her yet.”

Something clicks into place in his mental file about you. He feels like he just gained a new piece of the puzzle.

He readjusts your weight over his shoulder, tucking you a little closer and steadfastly pretending he doesn’t hear the little gasp you let out at the contact. Whether it was from pain or surprise, he can’t let himself think about it.

“Don’t go out by yourself. If you need to look, take Daryl with you.”

You sag a bit into him. “Okay.”

He glances down at you from the corner of his eye. You’re… pliant. You’d agreed quickly, and showed absolutely no fight or unwillingness when he, admittedly, manhandled you. You’d followed dutifully behind him and then simply allowed him to position your arms the way he wanted them.

There’s another little parasite that burrows into his brain right there. Right as he’s got you in his grip.

He slows to a stop, a little question forming in his head. He slips the arm that had been wrapped around your waist away, instead curls his fingers across your chin and jaw. He tilts your head up, looks down at your face, searching it for… something.

He meets no resistance. You only stare up at him, doe eyes blinking. He tilts your head to the left, then to right, and still, nothing.

Huh.

He lets go, and you shudder, a full body shiver. And he thinks, in this moment, that he could do whatever he wanted, and you might let him. He could break you, like this.

It’s a very dangerous thing, he decides. Because he doesn’t want to break you. He doesn’t want to hurt you. He wants to peel back the bandaids and see what’s under them. He wants to scrub the dirt from your face and give you soft clothes —his clothes— not those tattered rags that hang off your body.

You might let him do whatever he wants, but you’re the one who holds this power over him. You’re the one who made him sick— filled his head and clouded his judgement and made him the kind of man he never used to be.

But he can’t say any of that. Can’t even act on it. Not with someone young enough to be his daughter. He has a daughter for Christ’s sake. And a son.

So he just wraps his arm back around your waist and helps you to the medics.

—

“Rick,” Daryl says one afternoon, leaned on the post on the porch, “You’re drivin’ me crazy, here.”

“I’m not sure how I’m supposed to help with that.”

“The fawn.”

He raises an eyebrow. “The fawn?”

“You know. That nervous little thing you keep pretendin’ you don’t want in your bed.”

“Daryl.”

The man just keeps fiddling with his crossbow. “What?”

“I can’t just— she’s half my age.”

“So you’ve said.”

“I got kids to think about, and—“

“Carl don’t give a shit and Judith is ten. Only thing she’s concerned about is sneakin’ sweets.”

He entertains the notion in his head, thinks about what pursuing you might be like.

Something occurs to him.

“She ever get close to you?”

“No,” Daryl huffs, always knowing exactly what Rick means, “Keeps about an arm’s distance away. No matter what. She’s been inchin’ closer recently, but not by much.”

His hand on your face, moving it this way and that without any resistance at all, your body pliant in his grip—

“Hm,” Is all Rick says, crossing his arms.

“Why fawn?”

Daryl shrugs. “Looks like one. Kinda acts like one, around you.”

“No she doesn’t.”

Daryl levels him with a look. “Yes, she does. And based on the way you’ve been actin’, you like it.”

He opens his mouth to refute the point because no, he doesn’t like it, he just constantly thinks about how far he could take it, what you would let him do, if he could make you his.

And then he thinks ‘oh.’ Maybe he does like it.

He drops his hands to his hips. “What exactly am I supposed to do, then?”

“I don’t know. Ain’t my area of expertise.”

“You’re the one who knows her better, said I was drivin’ you crazy.”

“So? I don’t know jack shit about romance, Rick.”

“Well, you keep calling her a fawn. How different can it be?”

Very different, his mind supplies. You know that.

Now it’s Daryl’s turn to sigh. “Don’t overwhelm her. She’s a nervous little thing, but she likes you. Once she figures out you ain’t gonna hurt her, she’ll latch on.”

“That’s specific. You deal with fawns a lot?”

He snorts. “No. I’m fuckin’ guessin’ here.”

The two men fall into silence, Daryl fiddling or cleaning his bow— Rick ain’t paying that much attention to him.

He’s thinking about you. You, you, you. Your eyes and your face and your hands and the figure you carefully keep hidden under layers of clothing, even under the hot Virginia sun.

Fawn, he thinks to himself.

Fitting.

—

He doesn’t make a plan or something stupid like that. He just thinks. And then he decides.

“You’re really coming with us?” Glenn asks, pack slung over his shoulder.

“Yep,” Rick says, holstering his gun, “Goin’ stir crazy in there. Just needa get out for a bit.”

You’re quiet as you get your things in order, but the group doesn’t bat an eye. They’re used to your silence, it seems.

You can’t seem to tear your eyes away from him, though. You look away every time you think he’s looking at you, but he’s good at looking at you out of the corner of his eye, so he sees it.

Throughout the run, you hover near him, never quite going out of range of his field of vision. He’s impressed by how quietly and efficiently you work- you spot things even he wouldn’t have. All the while watching for walkers, and of course, subtly eyeing Rick.

Despite being the leader, he heads up the back and watches for stragglers. He didn’t really come out cause he was stir-crazy, anyway.

He came out for you. He wanted to watch you work, wanted to do it with you.

To your credit, you work well with the others. You’re a woman of few words with them, but you help where you can and stay civil. Even if you don’t quite get close to any of them.

Except Rick.

As they’re scavenging an abandoned house, a few walkers shuffle out from the trees. Not enough to be a problem— the group outnumbers them easy. But you’re all busy getting supplies and he’s trying to keep an eye out, so he takes them out, one by one.

It really isn’t a huge thing for him, couple walkers ain’t really a big deal, but you notice.

Your eyes are trained on him, clothes now dirty with blood and gore.

He tilts his head, then makes his way over to you.

“You, um,” You say as he gets closer, voice a little hoarse, “Are you alright?”

He runs a hand through his hair. “I’m fine. It’ll take more than a few walkers to take me out.”

You blink. “Oh.”

He snorts a little laugh. “You ain’t too good at this whole conversation thing, huh?”

You flush, looking away. “Sorry. I’m just not… used to having them.”

You look up at him, earnest. “But I’ve been practicing!”

Oh, lord have mercy over his poor soul. You’ve done a full 180– turned from being afraid of him to very obviously wanting his approval.

“That’s good, that’s good. Who you been practicin’ with?”

“Daryl.”

“Now, that ain’t no good.”

You frown, shifting in place. “It’s not?”

“Well, it’s good that you’re tryin’,” He amends, “But Daryl ain’t good for conversation practicin’. He’s a little too much like you. Much too inclined to just sit in silence.”

“Oh.”

You pause, taking your lip between your teeth and mulling something over in your head.

“Would you, um.” You look up at him, clearly nervous.

And he can’t help himself really, from leaning down into your space a bit, a low “Hmm?” humming from his chest.

Your reaction is instant. This close, he can see the exact moment a flush crawls across your face, to even the tips of your ears.

And he’d suspected, you know, based on your behavior with him. But this— cold hard evidence that he makes you nervous. That you want him on you.

It’s cute. Real cute.

You steel yourself against your own nervousness, and he wants to coo at you.

“Would you practice with me?”

He leans back against the post, slides his hands into his pockets. “Course. Ain’t much to it.”

You smile. It’s small, a quiet sort of thing, but it’s there. He made you smile.

You gesture to the house behind you. “I’m. Gonna go back to scavenging. Um. Thanks.”

You turn on your heel, fleeing back into the house. He watches you go, something settling right into place in his chest.

You stick a little closer to him for the rest of the run.

—

After that day, you begin seeking him out. You don’t approach him right away, preferring to to trail behind him for a little bit before finally making a move.

The move being a quiet: “Hi, Rick.”

Today’s no different, other than it being a little later when you do find him. He’s taking a little stroll around, as is his usual. It… settles him, to see everything alright with his own two eyes.

Settles him even more when he hears the quiet patter of your footsteps behind him.

He chuckles. “Afternoon, darlin’.”

Your foot steps speed up, fall into step somewhat beside him. “Hi, Rick.”

“Hi,” He says, smile tugging at his lips. “How was your day?”

You clasp your hands behind your back as you walk. “Good. Weren’t many walkers on today’s run. I got something for Judith.”

“Oh? Let’s see it, then.”

You take something out of your pocket and hold it out to him.

It’s a pocket knife. One of those multi-tool ones.

And it’s pink.

“I know it’s a cliche, the girls knife being pink, and she is only ten, but I saw it and I thought of her, and—“

“It’s perfect,” He interrupts before you can start spiraling. “She’s gonna love it.”

You deflate almost instantly. “Oh, good. I wasn’t sure.”

You walk for a few minutes before remembering the point of you coming up to him.

“Um. How was your day?”

He huffs a little, too fond to be upset. “Fairly decent. Ain’t got too much going on now.”

“That’s… good?”

He shrugs. “Just a little borin’. How’s that ankle of yours?”

This is usually how your conversations go. A few easy, back and forth questions. Easing you into talking to people, keeping conversations going. You’ve slowly gotten more confident. You talk a little longer, voice sounds a little more expressive.

“Fine.” You say, a little too quickly.

He narrows his eyes. “Really? No pain at all?”

It’s the looking away that sells it. You never look at him when you’re lying. Can’t stand to.

“No. It’s fine.”

He kicks his foot out a little, the toe of his boot just barely catching your ankle.

It’s a little more effective than he wanted. You let out a little yelp of pain and stumble forward, ankle almost immediately buckling.

He darts forward, catching you under the stomach with one arm.

You hang there a little, arms dangling.

“Fine, huh?” He hefts you up, so you’re back to standing upright, though now, visibly favoring your ankle. “So what’d the doctor tell you when I dropped you off?”

“Rest, ice, compression, and elevation.”

“And which of those four have you been ignorin’?”

“…”

“Hey,” He says, tapping the side of your jaw with two fingers. “Don’t lie to me.”

“All of them,” You wince, “I just didn’t want to be useless. I can walk on it fine. You haven’t even noticed until now!”

Your voice goes a little high at the end, a little desperate.

He thinks about how animals that are lower on the food rung don’t show pain. A deer will break a leg and keep walking until it drops, till it slows too much and something picks it off.

But you ain’t an animal, and nothing’s gonna pick you off.

“That’s true,” He says, “But that don’t make it right. You’re just prolonging the healing process.”

You look down. “…You were mad. I didn’t want to make you more upset by being useless.”

Ah. So that’s what it’s all about.

His approval, once again.

“I’d rather have you useless for a week than useless forever because you didn’t rest properly,” He ignores the hypocrisy of it, the fact that he’s ignored medical advice more times than he can count.

“I really am fine, mostly,” You say meekly, “It’s stopped hurting when I walk. It’s just a little unstable.”

“I still want you taking it easy for a little, you hear me?”

You nod.

“Nah,” He moves, standing in front of you, more than a little in your personal space, “I wanna hear you say it. Use your words.”

It’s a little test of sorts. To see how you’ll respond. What you’ll say. If you’ll listen.

You swallow, eyelashes fluttering. “I hear you. I understand.”

“What are you gonna do?”

“Take it easy.”

“That’s right,” You’ve been nice and obedient, so he figures you deserve a little reward. “Good girl.”

He hears your sharp intake of breath, watches your eyes get a little glassy.

Aw, that’s all you wanted. Just wanted to be someone’s good girl.

His good girl.

He nods towards your place. “Get along, now. Do I have to walk you to your door?”

“No,” you shake your head. “I’ll go. I will. Uh— bye.”

He watches you scamper away, gait a little uneven, hands clenched at your sides.

I can get used to this.

—

It becomes a little thing, after that.

When you’re not busy with your own responsibilities, you’re usually with him. Either right beside him, or trailing a few feet behind. Your company is quiet and calm, like waves from a lake lapping gently at the shore.

You also begin to settle in with the rest of the group. You’re still more inclined to be near Rick or, if he’s not available, Daryl, but once you become comfortable talking with people, Maggie and Glenn are quickly added to your slowly growing roster of safe people.

Judith has loved you ever since she found out that you’re the one who gave her the most beloved pink pocket knife, and enjoys babbling and talking your ear off about nothing the way that ten year olds do.

Carl grows to appreciate your presence too, finding solace in the fact that you don’t feel the need to fill silence with conversation.

You still act different when Rick is around, though. Especially when it’s just the two of you.

With everybody else, you’re subtly but very strictly independent- despite growing close with the group, you still maintain a slight distance with most of them, and prefer doing things yourself, by yourself. Old habits die hard, he supposes.

But when you’re alone, just Rick and you, those hard edges soften, and your little personal bubble pops. He’s steadily growing obsessed with the change.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy it. Having such a cute little thing follow him around, hanging off his words. Most days, it’s all he can do not to throw you over his shoulder and carry you to bed.

And then one day, he does. Kind of.

It must be the middle of the night, but the second he hears the knock at his door, he’s wide awake.

He hushes both Carl and Judith back to bed, then creeps to the front door with his hand on his gun. He has never, in his entire life, been awoken in the middle of the night to good news.

When he opens the door he sees you. And Daryl, but he’s really focused on you. You’ve got tears streaming down your face, you’re wearing a strange combination of sleep clothes and the clothes he’s seen you wear to do runs. Your boots are on, but not tied.

“Wha—“

“Caught her sneaking towards the gates, all shaken up. Figured it’d be wiser to take her here then back to her place.”

Daryl pats your head once. “Don’t do anythin’ stupid.”

Then Daryl’s gone, and you’re standing on Rick’s porch, still crying.

“Alright, come here now.”

He barely manages to get the door closed before you fall into him, face pressed to his chest and hands grasping the front of his shirt.

He hesitates for just a moment before wrapping his arms around you.

“Shh, shh. You’re alright, you’re alright now.”

He presses one hand to the nape of your neck, keeping you tucked close as you crack, just a little bit, nearly silent tears staining his shirt and tremors wracking your body.

Eventually, he guides you over to the couch, situates himself before helping you into a more comfortable position. He wraps your arms around his neck, your legs draped across his lap and the couch.

He keeps one hand pressed to your neck, the other rubbing slow circles on your back.

He presses his cheek to the crown of your head, breathing in deep and slow, a curl of satisfaction rising in his chest when you unconsciously mimic his breathing, silent sobs slowing, tremors fading.

Once you’ve calmed down enough, he speaks.

“What’s got you so worked up, huh? What happened sweetheart?”

The pet name slips out of his mouth unbidden, but honestly, he wouldn’t take it back.

“Nightmare,” You sniffle. “Daryl was gone and it was my fault and you hated me.”

“Well, none of that happened now, did it?”

You shake your head.

“No, that’s right. Daryl’s just fine, and I ain’t upset with you. You’re alright.”

You take in a few shaky, shuddering breaths.

He shifts, readjusting and tucking you closer to him. “Now, how come you didn’t come to me? Daryl said you were headin’ to the gates.”

You go a little rigid. “Didn’t think I was allowed. Didn’t want to wake you up for something stupid.”

“Oh, none of that now,” He nudges you away a little, taking your face in his hands. He needs eye-contact while he says this, “You need something, you come to me. I don’t care what it is, I don’t care what time it is. You come to me, you understand?”

You nod, lip wobbling a bit. “I understand.”

He thumbs your cheekbone. “Good. Now come on. Let’s get you back to bed.”

In the morning, the kids are a little surprised to see your rumpled form at the kitchen table, but both recover fairly quickly. Judith especially, who rejoices at the prospect of someone other than Carl or her father whom she can hold hostage with inane, ten year old questions.

But you never quite shake that haunted look in your eyes. Like there was something else— something more in that nightmare, something that dug its little claws in and stuck fast.

It’s all he can do but pray it doesn’t last.

—

It becomes an unspoken thing that wherever Rick is, you’re nearby. Kind of like a little puppy, following him about and hoping for a treat.

He indulges you, because he can’t really help himself in the face of those eyes.

He also knows it’s the easiest way to get you to smile, which he’s been trying to bring about more, since the nightmare. You’ve shaken that haunted expression for the most part, but every now and then, it’ll come back, if just for a few moments.

You’ve been absent most of the day today, off on a run, and he wishes it didn’t get under his skin so much to not have his favorite girl right there behind him.

You’re his stress relief, and you don’t even know it. Don’t even do anything really, just kind of linger about with your adorable little face and occasionally help with your cute little hands. He’s hopelessly obsessed.

You’re smiling when you get back, bee-lining straight for him.

“Well, well,” He says, resting his hands on his hips, “What do we have here?”

“I got you something,” You say, practically vibrating with excitement, slinging your backpack off and rifling through it.

“Oh, something for me? Can’t wait to see it.”

You pull an honest to god polaroid camera out of your bag.

“You said once that you wished you had pictures of your kids to carry with you, and I found this, and it still works, and it still has film in it. I checked.”

You thrust it out to him, and he extracts it carefully from your hands, holding it with an almost reverence.

A camera. A working film camera.

You shuffle in place, and he realizes he’s been staring at it in silence for more than a few minutes. “…Do you like it?”

“I love it,” He says honestly, voice just a little scratchy, because he doesn’t understand how someone can survive the zombie apocalypse, and still end up so damn kind, and so damn sweet. “I’m so touched, sweetheart.”

You beam up at him. If you had a tail, you’d be wagging it. He’s never understood cuteness aggression until this very moment. He just can’t. He wants to squeeze you as hard as he can or just punch a wall or some stupid shit.

God, he’s pushing forty, he needs to get this under control.

“I was really excited when I found it. Tara took a picture of me to test it.”

You pull out a little polaroid picture, film developed, and he takes that with reverence too. In the picture, you’re smiling, that same soft, little smile you do when you’re really happy about something and don’t know how to express it. Your hands show two peace signs, a knife clutched in one.

That’s my girl, he thinks.

“Might just have to keep this,” He says, dumb smile on his face.

“Really?”

“Really. You know, it’s good luck to keep a picture of a pretty girl with you.”

“Pretty?” You squeak, flushing. It’s so easy to make you flustered. He loves it.

“Mhm,” He says, tucking the photo into one of the compartments on his belt, keeping it safe. “Real pretty, I’d say.”

“Oh.” You say, more than a little breathless. “Um.”

Oh, your poor little brain.

“You need a minute?” He snorts.

“Maybe?”

He chuckles, patting the top of your head. “Oh, you’ll be fine. Better get used to it.”

“You’re pretty too,” You blurt, then your eyes widen comically. “No, wait, I meant—“

He laughs, a real, actual laugh. “Me, a grown ass man- pretty. That’s a good one.”

You bury your face in your hands, a tiny little whine escaping your throat.

“Aw, come on, now. Don’t be embarrassed. I’m very flattered you think I’m pretty.”

“S’ not what I meant.” You mumble.

“No?” He says, prying your hands off your face. “What’d you mean, then?”

You look away, unable to meet his eyes.

“You’re… handsome.” You whisper the last part, barely loud enough for him to hear.

“Aw, what’d I do to deserve a young thing like you thinking an old man like me is handsome?”

You mumble something again, a little too quiet for him to hear.

“…afe.”

He leans down. “What was that, now?”

“You’re safe.”

Oh.

That’s… not the answer he was expecting.

But he likes it.

Rick is a leader. A protector.

And you need him.

“I make you feel safe?” He hums, resisting the urge to step closer to you because you’re very much out in the open and he knows how you feel about wide open spaces, especially when there’s people in them. He’s torturing you enough as it is. “That why you linger around me, huh?”

Feeling bolder at his interest, you nod.

“You make me feel like… something special. Protected.”

Yes.

He’s always known that he needs to be needed. That he’s the kind of man who requires being a leader, taking care of what’s his, protecting.

To have verbal confirmation that he’s made you feel safe, protected, it’s.

Well it’s a lot more than he can unpack in front of the gates.

“Pretty little thing like you needs protectin’.”

You frown.

“Not because you’re incapable,” He amends, hands raised, “But because I rather like doing it.”

You lean closer, and he follows, heat rising—

“Please, save us all the pain of havin’ to watch, Rick.”

He grins, nose brushing yours, then steps back.

“Maybe stop creepin’ around, Daryl.” He calls to the other man, who just shrugs, ambling on by.

But Daryl does have a point. He doesn’t want an audience. You’re not that kind of girl.

Instead, he reaches down, snakes an arm around your waist and leads you away from the open space, towards his house instead.

“Come on, sweetheart. Think you’d rather be somewhere quiet for what I’m about to do.”

The heat radiating from your body and the shiver he feels under his palm is all the confirmation he needs.

His little fawn, finally his.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

3K notes · View notes

blac-ivy · 29 days ago

Text

━━━ ✧˖° 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐘, 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐇𝐄’𝐒 𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐀 𝐌𝐀𝐍

‎ ‎ [ 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐥 𝐝𝐢𝐱𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ]

female reader, inclusive language. minors dni.

kinks: protective daryl, reader is extremely girly and feminine, fingering, very light dom/sub, fucking on a motorcycle, daryl sucks his fingers, pet names, oral sex, cum swallowing, slightly rough sex, some dirty talk, true love

warnings and triggers: age difference, reader is a former sex worker, trauma bonding, violence, death, slut shaming, bullying

word count: 13.4k

plot with porn, slight alternate universe.

you’re known as the princess of your group - soft, feminine, a girly girl who doesn’t want to get her hands dirty. despite the cruel new world you’re living in, you still hold on to whatever remnants of beauty you can find, hoping for a better tomorrow.

daryl is the opposite of everything you stand for. he’s hardened, rugged, ruthless - he’ll do whatever it takes to survive. despite your differences, you find yourselves drawn to each other in ways nobody, not even you two, can really understand. you bring softness to his strength, and in daryl you find a friend, a lover, a protector.

he’s everything you find warm and safe in this cold, scary world. you cling to him, and the best part?

daryl clings back.

“Cookies?”

The look Daryl gives you actually makes you crack a smile, and it’s a nice feeling. It’s been a long time since you smiled, now that you think about it - but it’s not like you’re keeping score.

Because if you were - you’d probably be able to count the amount of grins that’ve graced your face in the last eight months on one hand. Life has been brutal to everyone this year.

“I know it sounds weird,” you explain, crossing your legs on the rock you’re sitting on. Daryl’s supposed to be keeping watch of the camp while Rick and a few other men from the group make a run into the neighboring town for supplies. The plan was, because even the smallest things need well thought out plans in this world, that the women and children of the camp would rest, and if Daryl saw any walkers, he’d wake everyone up.

Sort of dumb, in theory, with how fast things happen when walkers are added to the equation, but it’s all this group has got.

Plans and Rick’s hope.

You’re supposed to be resting too, since yesterday was a travel day - long and exhausting. But you can’t sleep. You’ve got a headache, you’re hungry, and your sleeping bag is still a little damp from your water bottle, the plastic gone thin from having been dropped too many times, breaking while you drove from your last destination. Your tent is cold and you’re sharing it with a single woman who has a child, and their crying is really starting to bum you out.

So you decided to join Daryl keeping watch. He’s perched on a little ledge that overlooks the rest of the camp, able to see anything coming or going before anyone on the ground can. You’re not great with a gun, but since the world went to shit, you can handle yourself pretty well.

You want to help protect the camp and everyone in it, especially since you asked Rick to pick up another reusable water bottle for you while he was in town. The look on his face was so priceless it actually made you a little sad.

“Doesn’t just sound weird,” Daryl replies, shifting to get more comfortable on the grassy ground. There’s another rock for him to sit on, but it’s something you’ve noticed about him - Daryl always chooses to sit close to the ground, even if there’s a proper place for him to sit. “It is weird,” he grumbles the last part, busying himself with chucking a rock a few feet away while a squirrel scampers up a tree. He curses under his breath, no doubt pissed at himself for not securing another meal.

You’re distracting him. You should feel bad, but you don’t.

Before walkers and the end of the world as you knew it, you used to be so concerned with manners. Worried about what others thought about you more than you worried about your own well being. You’re not like that anymore. It’s a dark, although funny thought - that it took something as drastic as an apocalypse to finally rid you of your people pleasing habit.

There’s a crunching sound a few yards away that has the both of you tensing up, frozen while you listen for the sound of growling, but it never comes. Daryl visibly relaxes after a minute, which is your cue to start talking again. He just listens, although from the angle you’re sitting at, you swear you see him roll his eyes.

“You ever think about how weird it is, the stuff we miss?” You ask, but you already know he’s not going to reply. Daryl rarely replies, but you know he’s listening. You don’t have any real proof that he is - but what else would he be doing while you chat his ear off? He can stand up for himself, doesn’t do anything he doesn’t want to do - if he didn’t want you talking to him, he’d tell you to fuck off.

It’s a small victory you hold close to your heart - the fact that he just puts up with you. You continue. “I mean, everyone always says they miss things like hot showers, electricity, or whatever. I do, but I guess it’s not the thing I miss the most. For me, it’s cookies. But not bakery cookies. The kind of cookies you get from the store, the cheap ones. When you flatten the cookie dough yourself, and no matter what, always burn them or undercook them,” as you talk about it, you can taste the ghost of cookies past on your tongue. It waters a little, your mouth, which goes to show you just how hungry you are.

All you eat these days are protein bars and uncooked cans of whatever food the group can find. Sometimes, with your eyes closed and your breath held, you’ll try bits of squirrel or owl or whatever other animal Daryl hunts and shares with the group, but even the thought makes you nauseated. You never knew you’d be able to have preferences when the other choice is starving to death, but the difficult human spirit prevails, you suppose.

Daryl glances at you, and although it’s pretty dark, the moon shines light enough that you can see his expression. You’d expect his face to be mean, aggravated - tired. Listening to a young woman ramble about baking cookies while his body is on high alert to protect an entire fucking camp - but instead, Daryl’s expression is soft. He lets you continue, although his reaction does remind you that you’re also on guard. But aren’t you always?

The gun strapped to your hip and the knife in the pocket of your boot feel extra heavy at the reminder.

You clear your throat, trying to keep your voice low. God forbid a fucking walker kills you or anyone else in this group because you couldn’t shut up about cookies.

“Maybe it’s stupid, you know? I just,” you look down, playing with the zipper on your jacket. Suddenly, you feel really embarrassed. On the spot. Daryl probably thinks you’re a fucking idiot. Your face heats up.

But it’s not just the cookies. You leave out the part where the cookies remind you of your parents. How your mom, when she was alive, used to make them for you after a rough day. That those cookies were the staple of every sleepover you’ve ever had with your best friends. How those cookies were -

“It ain’t,” Daryl’s voice takes you out of your thoughts. You look at him, brows furrowed. You catch his eyes for only a second, before he looks away quickly, pretending to be occupied by something on the dirty ground. “It ain’t stupid,” he finishes.

You wonder that night, after Rick and the others come back to relieve you and Daryl of your duty, while you’re laid up in your sleeping bag that hardly protects you from the cold - what does Daryl miss? Sure, out of everyone in the group, he’s most equipped at living this kind of life. Knows how to hunt, can stomach raw fucking meat, isn’t scared of anything, or so he says. What reminds him of home? What thoughts comfort him?

Surely, whatever those thoughts are, they’re not as dumb as store bought cookie dough.

But what Daryl said stuck with you. Not stupid. You fall asleep, albeit with one eye open, feeling a little less cold.

Because for a moment, Daryl’s understanding?

It made the world feel a little less broken.

────

“Gross,” you mutter, blood slashing on your face. You just shot a walker in the head, and your ears are ringing from the loud noise of the gun. You’ll never get used to firing that thing. How loud it is, the way your hand shakes even minutes after you pull the trigger.

Daryl comes from behind you, and he lets out a laugh. It’s low, short - if you weren’t trained to hear the noise, you’d miss it. Because really - it’s like you’ve literally trained yourself to look for little cues that Daryl is having a good time. Or, since you doubt anyone these days is having a good time, at least that he’s alright. That he’s not annoyed at you for hanging around him or talking to him or irritated at your presence in general.

“Blood on your face grosses you out, but you’ll pick through walker guts for a bottle of nail polish,” he shakes his head, but it's not like he’s judging. In fact, Daryl actually seems a little…fond? He’s teasing you, and normally the reputation you have in this group as a girl that’s afraid to get her hands dirty, too girly to do anything for yourself - it stings.

But not when it comes from Daryl. You can tell he’s teasing, and you roll your eyes playfully.

“Didn’t dig in walker guts for that nail polish,” you remind him, even as he walks past you to lead the way. You glance at his back, the angel wings on his leather vest, and will yourself to stop the heat rushing to your face and the arousal pooling in your belly at how fucking strong he is. Big arms, muscles that look like he should be on the cover of a body building magazine instead of in these creepy woods with a crossbow. You gulp. “There was a little blood in the nail polish section when we did a run the other day. I cleaned it off the bottle I wanted. No biggie.”

Daryl scoffs, and you smile. “Yer crazy, girl,” he replies, and at that you look down at your nails. Baby pink, the same color you always used to choose when you’d get your nails done back at home. You could shiver with pleasure, just from thinking about the feeling of warm water on your hands, someone paying special attention to your cuticles - lotion, that you don't have to share with every other woman at the camp. The polish you’re wearing, painted just two days ago, is chipped and stained red with walker blood, but it’s better than nothing.

Makes you feel a little more human. A little more like a woman. A little more like yourself.

Now, if only you could find some hairspray and a razor.

You’ve been joining Daryl whenever he lets you - or, more truthfully, whenever Rick tells Daryl it’s okay for you to join him. Rick still doesn’t believe that you know what you’re doing, thinks of you as a liability, but you’re determined to prove yourself. You got to go on a run the other day, and today, Daryl went to check out the perimeter of the grassy hill the group is currently camping in, and you volunteered to go with him.

“You sure?” Rick had asked when the plan was originally made, looking at Daryl with squinted eyes. He pretended like you didn’t exist, even as you were standing right next to him. Daryl nodded. “S’okay with me. I’ll look out for her. Bring yer gun,” he told you, and you nodded, skipping after him down the trail.

Around Daryl, and maybe this is why you like him so much - it’s easy to feel like a woman. Easy to feel safe, too. Daryl just knows what he’s doing, and he’s so strong, big, can handle so much. Being around him feels good, but you know it’s all just a farce.

You’re not safe and neither is Daryl, a fact that becomes even clearer when you almost trip on a dead body by a stream you’re both passing on the way back to camp, alerting a walker that was only a few yards away. Daryl was able to kill him with an arrow, but it was a close call.

One minute, laughing and talking. The next, like you’re begging death to open the door after ringing his doorbell a few too many times.

You walk back to camp in silence, walker blood splattered on the both of you. When you get back, it’s nearly dark, and you help a few of the other women finish some laundry and keep an eye on a few restless kids. Life sucks in this world as an adult - but you can’t imagine living like this as a kid. Although, you think, watching them throw dirt at each other and believe the food their mothers are giving them really tastes just like chicken nuggets, maybe being so clueless is for the best.

After dinner, on your way to your tent, you see Rick and Daryl talking. You try to listen in, pretending that you’re just getting your sleeping bag ready for bed, but you don’t hear anything of importance. Meaning, you don’t hear either of them bring up your name. You feel like a highschooler, desperate for friends, eager to belong - hoping your crush notices you.

Because that’s what this is with Daryl, isn’t it? You’ve got a crush on him. Butterflies, wanting his attention, looking for excuses to be around him. It’s pathetic but a little beautiful, you admit - that even in a situation like this, where death surrounds every person, no matter who they are - there’s room in the human spirit for a little love.

A crush, you think again, fixing your nails in your tent. You can almost convince yourself that life isn’t so horrible, just for a minute, until the woman you share your tent with comes in for bed and complains that the smell of the polish is too strong and makes it hard for her to sleep.

Okay, bitch, you say in your head. It’s not like the walker guts and dead bodies beyond our tent smell any better. You bite your tongue and walk out of the tent, making your way to the empty clearing a little ways away from the tents. It’s so quiet, there’s no way you wouldn’t hear a walker if one was to come around you, but you have a knife on you just in case. No gun, since the noise would just draw more to you.

You think these things through. You just wish Rick, and the rest of the group, would see that too.

It’s dark, except for the moon and the stars shining pretty above you. Maybe the little fact you read online years ago about the environment is true - people are the cause of everything bad and all the pollution. A little more than half a year into the apocalypse, and there’s no smog clogging up the skies. It’s a gorgeous night.

You sit with your hands flat on the ground, waiting for your nails to dry. You get a good few minutes of silence, until the noise of footsteps has you nearly jumping out of your boots, reaching for your knife, only to realize that it’s not a walker, but Daryl coming to plop down next to you.

“Gosh, Daryl. You scared me,” you complain, letting out a whine. He doesn’t say anything, just sits next to you on the ground, although he moves so his back is facing your back. Makes sense, so you're both safe from all angles. Daryl always thinks about little things like that.

He’s quiet for long enough that you start to think of something to fill the silence. “Damnit,” you mutter, letting out a huff. “I ruined my nails.”

“Oh, quit it,” Daryl replies. “Whatcha doin’ out here all by yerself? You got a death wish, girl?” You’re mortified that Daryl is scolding you like you’re a kid, like you’re an idiot, and coming from him it just hurts even more.

You’ve always had an even temper, but in this new world, you lose it more often than you used to. It’s probably just the way life is now - the stress, the hunger, the cold and the dirt and the sweat and the lack of anything that used to bring anyone joy. It makes everyone crazy.

“Yeah, well - ‘m sure your buddy Rick hopes a walker gets to me. Know he was talking shit about me earlier.” You sniffle, but you’re not crying yet - it just really hurts, that you feel like such dead weight at this camp. You’ve never really been insecure, but you feel like nobody likes you. Nobody understands you. And yeah, surviving is more important than being miss popular with a group of people in the apocalypse, but everyone’s always talking about this group being family. Does that include you? It doesn’t feel like it these days.

Daryl is silent, as you expected. Normally you don’t mind the company, even if it’s a mute one, but tonight you’re feeling on edge. Until Daryl speaks. “Rick ain’t my friend. No one wants you to die, kid. Yer too much,” he mutters, and then you stand up, aggravated and not wanting to take it out on him.

You begin to walk away when Daryl reaches out and grabs your ankle to stop you. “Daryl,” you warn, as if you’d do anything to retaliate even if he pulled you on the ground with him. But you keep up the hard ass attitude - it feels good, you admit, being difficult for once. You don’t get to be anything but accommodating at camp.

“Rick and I were sayin’ how valuable you are to the group. How much you’ve grown,” he explains, and you roll your eyes, make a show of stomping away, knowing, loving that Daryl is right on your heels. Because there’s no reason for him to stay in that clearing - he’s not on watch tonight. He was only hanging around there for you.

Despite acting like Rick’s comment meant nothing to you, on the inside, as you walk to your tent, you fight a smile. So Rick has noticed your effort. That’s all you wanted, except -

You realize that maybe approval you wanted so badly never needed to come from Rick -

Because the approval from Daryl feels pretty damn good.

────

Daryl fixes you with a look that makes you burst out laughing.

You’ve only been at this spot in the woods for a few weeks, but so far, quality of life among the camp has improved. Almost a year in this new world, and this is the first time anyone’s ever slept with both eyes closed since before people turned into the living dead. There’s a river nearby perfect for fishing, and tonight at the campfire, you had your first taste of - what did Daryl call it?

Sushi.

“Just so you know,” you say, crossing a leg over the other on the little log you’re sitting on. The sun is going down, and the sky is a pretty shade of pink and even a little purple. You wonder if nature has always been this beautiful - you’d always just been too preoccupied to see it. You put a tiny piece of the fish Daryl caught and cooked into your mouth, surprised at the taste. You don’t have to fake your reaction. It’s not bad at all - but you wouldn’t necessarily say it’s good. Tastes better than another can of old spaghetti rings though, that’s for sure.

Still, you can’t help teasing. You finish your original statement. “Sushi tastes much better than this.”

Daryl smiles, just slightly. And not the fake kind of smile he does when he’s just trying to be polite. Like when an elderly man from the group tells a joke no one else laughs at, or when the strap of your last bra broke and you started crying until Rick promised, cheeks red, that he’d look for your size on the next run.

Right now, it seems like Daryl’s actually having a good time.

The thought makes you smile.

“Thank you,” you tell Daryl, and you swear you see him blush. “It's better than sushi, really.”

“Yeah,” Daryl says, nodding. He’s grown uncomfortable with the compliments already. “It’s the best yer gonna get.” Others from the group join you around the campfire, and then Daryl takes off, but not before giving you one last lingering gaze. He has small eyes, you’ve noticed - a little hooded, but so beautiful. He’s incredibly handsome, in a unique way. A pretty, no, beautiful man. His stare burns you, warms you up even with the chill in the air.

It’s only later, when the rest of the group clears off and you and Daryl are alone again, that he speaks. He’s sharpening a knife, leaning on the side of a camper van for support, and you’re at a makeshift sink (bucket) washing the dishes. It was your least favorite chore before this new world, and it’s still your least favorite after.

But, if you let your mind go there - something about the dynamic between Daryl cooking dinner and you cleaning the dishes up has you -

No. You’ve got to stop acting so juvenile.

On one hand, this little crush you have on Daryl is something positive that gets you through the day. Waiting to talk to him, excited to be around him - it shines light on a dark, terrible reality. On the other hand, getting attached to anyone at this camp is a bad idea. You just lost someone else a few days ago.

The reality, that death really is lurking everywhere - that something could happen to you, or Daryl…it makes your palms sweat and your breathing become erratic. The reality of this new world is just so scary and cruel.

You’re done with the dishes and you dry your hands on an old flannel that the camp uses as a dish towel. You feel Daryl watching you, and you like it.

“What are you looking at?” You tease, pushing some hair away from your face. “There a walker behind me or something?

He scoffs. “I wouldn’t look at no walker like that,” he grumbles, but then he must realize what he said - what it really means. You’re so excited you’re almost vibrating, wondering, realizing now - that maybe this crush isn’t one sided. But you still try to play it cool, even as Daryl shakes his head, says, “Wasn’t lookin’ at nuthin.’”

You don’t know what to say to that. You begin to walk away, excited to spend the rest of the night in your tent going over this interaction until you fall asleep, but what Daryl says next stops you in your tracks. You freeze.

“Gotta get you a bra on the nex’ run,” he says, and your knees feel weak. “Those things almos’ poked me in the eye. You cold or sumthin’?’”

You fast walk to your tent, nearly crying from embarrassment - but your entire body is dizzy with excitement. It’s adrenaline, but not the same kind you get when you’re running or kill a walker and make it out alive - a different kind, one you haven’t felt since maybe even before the walkers. It lights you up inside, makes it hard to breathe - and the funniest part?

Daryl has no idea your nipples are hard because you’re aroused - all from watching him sharpen a knife. What can you say? A man who can handle a weapon like that can surely handle…other things.

────

The fire crackles as you sit back, the warmth from the flames doing little to ease the chill in your bones. It’s freezing outside, but you’re under a warm blanket, and if you delude yourself enough you can almost convince yourself that this is just a toasty evening with friends and not a risky fire that could very well lead walkers directly to the camp.

But there’s nothing the group can do - it’s simply too cold to go without a fire tonight. Even Daryl, king of having his arms always showing, is in a jacket tonight. Which sucks, because you really love looking at his arms…but this is survival.

There’s hushed conversation while Rick tells a story, a few pairs to the side chattering, and you feel left out until you notice that Daryl isn’t talking to anyone either. He’s just looking at the ground, then the fire, gaze flickering to you every few minutes.

And you only notice that because your eyes can’t stay off of him. You can’t help it - it’s like you’re always looking for him. There’s something about that man, as dumb as it sounds, that makes him feel like your own security blanket. Even seeing him from across the camp, just a glimpse, can settle your nerves like nothing else.

Suddenly, a voice from next to you tries to get your attention. It’s Derek, a decent looking guy about your age - but he’s pretty useless, as far as skills go. He accompanies the rest of the men for runs into town, can kill a walker if necessary, but he’s selfish and all about himself. Won’t even take watch at night, says it interferes with his sleep. You can’t stand him.

You try to avoid his gaze and pretend to be busy, picking at your cuticles and hoping he leaves you alone, but no such luck.

“Look at you, princess,” he teases, and you cringe so hard you wonder if it’s visible. It’s embarrassing, being referred to like that - so what, that you like the color pink and happen to be attractive? You’re not hurting anyone. The clothes you’re wearing, the pink clips you have to hold your hair back, the floral printed pillow case - those were all things you had before the world went to shit.

You didn’t know the apocalypse had a dress code.

You’re sick of being teased. Of being reduced to this overly feminine character - as if you don’t keep watch just as much as the men. As if you don’t kill walkers when they get close to the camp, while the other women hide. As if you don’t cook, and clean, and -

Derek is still talking.

You sneak a glance across the campfire at Daryl, who holds your gaze for a minute before dropping it. You look back down too, play with your fingers on your lap. You’d go to your tent right now if you weren’t scared about the safety of falling asleep with no one actively on watch.

“So, what’d you all do before this?” Derek asks, leaning forward. He’s asking the group, but he’s looking at you, which means - you’re supposed to go first?

You wonder if this has anything to do with what you told Cindy, someone you used to share a tent with before she found room in another one. There’s not much to do these days when you’re not cooking or cleaning or hunting or moving - lots of time to sit and talk. The apocalypse is so much more boring than you ever anticipated. You shared a lot about your past with her, but surely she wouldn’t gossip about you to the others in the camp?

You thought girl code was still a thing, even in these trying times.

Everyone is silent, waiting for your answer. Even Daryl and Rick seem interested, which makes you feel even worse. You wanted to fit in, not be the center of attention.

You shift uncomfortably, before clearing your throat. You can feel Cindy’s eyes on you, sitting just a few people down. “Nothing special. Just,” you pause and shrug, unsure of what to say. “Whatever I had to. To survive.”

Back then, surviving was all about money, and ever since your parents died when you were a teenager, money is the one thing you never had enough of. One thing you did have though, is your beauty. So you used it, to get the things you needed, and sometimes a little more - but it all boiled down to one thing, just like it does now - to survive.

That’s all life is about, really? Take away the frills, the fun - people just want to stay alive, no matter how rough things get.

So - you had a boyfriend to pay your rent. A man that loved to take you shopping. A lonely guy who paid off your car. You’ve never lived in luxury, but you always made it. Always got by. Had the things you needed and a little bit more. Always -

“Yeah, well, we all knew you were a whore.”

The words leave Derek’s mouth and you’re frozen. Speechless - and that never happens to you. You’re so shocked at what he said that your mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water, and it’s only then that you realize the bottle of hard liquor on his lap.

You glare at Cindy, who quickly gets up and runs to her tent, more scared of you than walkers apparently - good, you think, because she’s such a bitch for talking about you behind your back. You try to be cool about it, to laugh it off like Derek is so wrong it doesn’t even deserve a reaction, but you’re so embarrassed you feel your chest aching.

Has everyone known about your history the entire time you’ve been at camp? You shared those stories with Cindy in the beginning, one of the first nights you arrived, desperate for some comfort. Is that why everyone treats you so differently from the rest? Is that why you’re the black sheep of a fucking camp formed during the apocalypse?

Does Daryl know?

You’re ready to defend yourself, but you don’t get to. Because Daryl is around the fire so fast you don’t even have time to blink, grabbing Derek by the collar of his shirt and pounding his fists into his face.

The sound of knuckles against bone is excruciating, makes you want to hurl - but you don’t tell him to stop. You’re frozen, and anyway, Derek deserves it, doesn’t he?

It’s Rick, and a few other men that pull Daryl off of Derek, who’s sporting an eye so swollen it won’t shut and a busted lip, a cheek that’ll be purple for the next few weeks for sure. “Whore,” he spits, still able to talk, even as someone drags him away. “Man, shut up already,” one of the guys says to him, but nobody eases the sting of what he says.

Daryl wipes sweat from his brow while Rick walks off to talk to Derek, but he can’t get a word in with the shit the other man is spewing. “Fucking whore,” he keeps grumbling. “There’s no money to milk from men anymore, is there? Bet you put out for that fish Dixon caught for you. Did you do the same for that new bra? Or that water bottle Rick brought back for you? Almost died you know, getting that shit for you, maybe you can thank me with,” Rick kicks him in the ribs before he can finish and tells him to shut up in that leader voice of his.

You run off, now that the rest of the group has scattered, but you hear Daryl yell out, “Yeah, man, you should’ve died,” with a string of curse words. “All you fuckin’ people looking’ at her. Yer all whores in your own way. Useless too,” he continues, but you don’t hear it because you get into your tent and zip it up.

Great. All this drama, and now nobody is ever going to fucking like you now. You’ll be the black sheep forever, won’t you? It’s a harsh wake up call, and you’re thankful you’re alone. Your tentmate must’ve taken her daughter out to be with the other kids, away from the rowdiness at the fucking campfire. You sniffle, and climb into your sleeping bag.

A minute later, before you’ve even had time to process what’s happening, Daryl enters the tent. He’s so big, it’s hard for him to fit, but he manages - cursing and crouching in a way that would make you laugh if this wasn’t such a depressing situation.

He sits next to your sleeping bag. Knees bent, arms around his legs. He just sort of watches you. You look anywhere but his face, but you notice his knuckles are bloody red and torn, all because of you.

“Didn’t have to defend me,’ you say, instead of thank you. “I wasn’t a whore, so,” but Daryl cuts you off.

“Don’t matter what you were. He shouldn’t talk to you like that. Little prick deserves his ass kicked anyway. Can’t even shoot straight,” it’s like this moment is as uncomfortable for him as it is for you. You share a look, but you look away first, afraid of the intensity. You’ve never had someone stand up for you before - not like this. What are you supposed to say? What are you supposed to do?

You say nothing at all. A few more minutes go by, with your vision blurry as you stare at Daryl’s knuckles and he stares at the hole that shows the grassy ground in the bottom of your tent. Finally, he sighs, annoyed, and even though you’re not talking you’re still worried he’s going to leave. He’s your teddy bear after all, right? Your security blanket. Maybe you’re selfish - but you don't want him to go.

And he doesn’t. Instead, Daryl adjusts his position so he can reach into his pocket and pull something out. It’s bright pink, satin looking - you wonder if he’s going to hand you a pair of racy panties just to seal the deal that he thinks you’re a slut. A whore.

But is he wrong? The look of the muscles in his arm, at his sheer size - at the smell of him, so masculine and woodsy in this little tent it almost makes you dizzy with want.

After what just happened, how can you be thinking about sex? Maybe you are a slut. A whore. You’ve done things for money before, but -

Daryl hands the piece of pink satin to you. “S’posed to be a ribbon,” he says, shrugging. He’s embarrassed you realize, and it’s cute. “Found it on a toy, er, teddy bear, thought you might like it. If you don’t, I,” but you cut him off, scoot closer to him as you tie it around your wrist.

“Thank you, Daryl,” you say softly, sweetly - and it feels so natural to lean in and press your lips against his cheek. His body is warm, and when you grip his bicep every cell in your body is on fire with desire. He must’ve taken his jacket off after the fight. If it could even be called that, with the way Daryl jumped Derek. Fights are usually a two way street.

Your heart swells, at the fact that he protected you. Thought about you on a run. Saw something and thought of you. Men have bought you things before, of course - but never something personal like this. Never something you didn’t have to ask for beforehand, for nothing in return.

Daryl, he - he gives you feelings so fuzzy and pure in your chest that you almost forget you’re sleeping just a few feet away from a forest of dead bodies.

He doesn’t wipe his cheek when you pull away after the kiss, which is a step in the right direction. You’ve seen Daryl lose his shit over the intimacy of a simple thank you hug with someone else from camp before.

You feel special.

“Was nothin,’” he says, before pausing. He looks at you, then away again, wringing his hands before continuing. “Don’t feel any typa way about doin’ what you had to do to survive, ya hear me? I know what it’s like to do what you hav’to to live, ya know? That fucker. He doesn't have a clue about makin’ it on your own. How tough it can be. Don’ listen to the shit he’s got to say. Don’t listen to none of these people,” he won’t look at you, but you look at him, the side profile of his face so handsome you want to reach out and touch him. But you refrain.

Instead, you squeeze his arm, bicep tan and bulging. You lick your bottom lip. “Daryl,” you interrupt him and he looks at you, gaze on your eyes, then your lips, then to the pretty ribbon tied around your wrist. He visibly swallows, before looking back at your eyes. His eyes are blue, pretty. Too pretty for a man as rugged as him, but what’s the saying?

A person who is good on the inside - their beauty shines through. You think that’s true about Daryl. At this moment, you don’t think you’ve ever seen a man as beautiful as him. You breathe him in, going crazy over his pheromones - his smell. You can feel your body getting aroused at his closeness, and he’s not even doing anything sexual.

“Next time,” you say, teasing tone in your voice, “Can you bring the whole bear?”

────

“Look at us,” you say, trying not to skip beside Daryl. A mood this good feels eerie in this new world, but you can’t help the way you feel.

Daryl asked you to join him for a walk, and ever since that night when he gave you the ribbon in your tent - you’ve been closer than ever. You wear the ribbon around your wrist every single day, except for right now, when you’re wearing it to hold some of your hair back.

You’re not sure what’s going on with you and Daryl, but there’s a freedom about it that fills you with joy. Helps you exhale easier in this crazy, cruel world - because he’s safe, and you like being around him, and he obviously likes you too, right? Or he wouldn’t ask you to go for a walk every single day, wouldn’t pay special attention to you during meals, making sure you’re eating enough -

And he really wouldn’t have kissed you against a tree during his watch last week if he had any bad feelings towards you.

Things at the camp are complicated, because that stunt Derek pulled separated the group. There’s people that hate you, because they’re really mad at Daryl - but nobody can be actually mad at Daryl, since he does so much for the entire group. Catches animals for food, is one of the strongest men besides Rick. You’re not exactly his girl, not even close, but you know that the only reason you haven’t been used as walker bait is because of Daryl’s status at the camp.

When he kissed you, just a few weeks after that night in the tent - it was so much softer than you imagined. Because, yeah - you imagined what it would be like to kiss Daryl Dixon. Ever since you met him, really. He’s so tough, so crass, such a force. It’s always been an opinion of yours, that the toughest people really just need some softness. You wonder now, when he smiles shyly at you as you walk past a stream, if you’re that softness for him these days.

“Look at us, what, girlie?” He asks, and you stifle a giggle, trying to remain serious for the bit of the joke. You brush your hand against his as you walk, wondering when he’ll grab it. Wondering when, if, he’ll ever claim you. But you’re trying not to rush things. It’s easy to get worried about time, when every single day is life and death - but there's something kind of beautiful about just going with the flow of what feels good.

Living in the present, which is literally all you have now. All anyone has. And right now, your goal in the present, is to make Daryl laugh.

“You’ve got your bow,” you say, gesturing to his weapon, “And I’ve got mine.” You flip your hair, showing off the pink, satin ribbon holding your hair away from your face. Daryl chuckles and shakes his head, but it only lasts for a second.

Your face heats, pleased with yourself for making him laugh, and then your breath hitches when he grabs hold of your hand.

“Yer sumthin’ else, girl,” he says fondly, and you walk into an area dense with trees before he nudges you against the trunk of one.

You don’t know what life was like for Daryl before walkers took over the population. You’re not sure if he had a lot, or a little, experience with women before this all happened. In fact, you don’t know a lot about Daryl at all. He’s closed off, he’s a little mean sometimes, too tough for his own good -

But god, the way he kisses.

Hesitant, like he’s scared to take something he didn’t earn. You want to tell him that every single part of you, he has earned. You’ve known him for more time than your longest relationship. You’ve seen each other filthy, desperate, depraved. Covered in blood, covered in guts - starving, dirty, depressed. For a man that hardly talks, Daryl somehow knows you better than any man, maybe even any other person, ever has.

He stood up for you. He tries to take care of you. He’s a good friend, he’s -

When he slips a hand to your hip and drops his crossbow on the ground, squeezes at your skin in a way that’s so possessive it makes your breath hitch, you literally let out a cry. Against your lips, Daryl murmurs, “Quiet, ‘less you wanna have a threesum with a walker.” His tongue tastes like cigarettes, a little bit like the apple juice one of the kids at the camp wanted him to try, because he’s a good sport, even if his resting bitch face might suggest otherwise.

There’s something about him ordering you around that does it for you. You let him take charge of the kiss, but you grab his roaming hand and move it to your breast. He squeezes, but in your new bra, you don’t feel the friction you’re so desperately craving from him rubbing over your nipples. You want more, and you whine, trying not to be greedy but it’s just so damn hard.

Against the tree, Daryl slips a leg between yours, and you shamelessly bend down to try to rub your aching core against it. “Daryl,” you whine, and he laughs, pulling away to look at you, his hair that’s getting longer plastered against his forehead with sweat. Everything about him is overwhelming. His smell, intense, his lips, delicious, his strength and size, so fucking hot you just want to curl up in the pocket of his shirt and stay safe forever.

Because you don’t have a doubt in your mind - Daryl would keep you safe. You wonder, why you wasted your time with finance guys and entrepreneurs and men who’d never gotten their hands dirty, back when life was normal. Daryl, with calloused fingertips and his thick accent, a country boy through and through - he pleases you, makes you happier than anyone you’ve ever met before.

Yeah, even in the apocalypse, you can find the romance. You kiss Daryl deeper.

He moves his hand down from your breast to slip it into your pants, and he lets out a low noise in his throat at the feeling of your wetness already. Just from kissing him. You’re not ashamed - it’s been a long time since anyone touched your pussy like this, a long time since you even touched it yourself. There’s just no time alone, and you share a tent, and -

“Yer soakin,’” Daryl comments, and your entire body flushes with humiliation. But the good kind. You nod. “For you,” you whisper, and he leans his forehead against yours before capturing your lips in his again.

Just as you expected, Darly is good with his fingers. He positions one of your legs over his hip so he has better access to finger you, rough hands, the calloused pads of his thumb dragging over your clit, so swollen after so long without cumming. It’s not going to take long, you know, to completely fucking burst. You want it so bad, to come apart on his fingers, to show him just how good you can be. He’s knuckle deep inside of you while still also putting pressure on your clit when you let out a screech, thankful you opened your eyes in time to see the walker coming from behind Daryl.

You push him off of you until he curses and tries to pick up his crossbow, fingers still slick with your pussy, but you beat him to it. You grab the knife out of your boot, even though your body feels like jelly, and you slam it into the walker’s forehead as hard as you can. You huff and puff, because it takes a lot out of you, and when the walker is on the ground you slam your boot into its face a few too many times until the bottom of your shoe is covered with walker brains.

“He’s dead,” Daryl says behind you. “Don’ waste yer energy.” You roll your eyes, wiping sweat from your face with a bandana you had in your pocket.

“I know. That’s for him ruining my orgasm,” you say out loud, and behind you, Daryl lets out a low whistle. You’re really humiliated now, but what are the chances? A fucking walker trying to eat Daryl while you’re trying to get him to eat you? Some fucking luck.

There’s still blood splattering on your face, and you turn to Daryl, wiping it with your sleeve. “Doesn’t bother me if it doesn’t bother you,” you say sheepishly, unsure of how to read his bland expression. But just because a walker interrupted, doesn’t mean you don’t want to continue your little fingering session. Just in case, shame out the window, you reach for him. Daryl backs away slightly.

“Slow down,” he says, pulling away from you. “Don’ wanna fuck you in the forest,” and you understand, but also - where else can you have sex? Everyone’s always watching each other. When else can you get some time alone?

Daryl looks down at the bulge in his pants, and you reach down and grope him, like some kind of horny harlot. Maybe you are. He watches you, the color of your nails, your tiny hand - and he lets out a groan himself.

“C’mon, pretty girl,” he says, leaving you speechless and wet in the middle of the woods. He starts to walk away, but his head is turned to you and his eyes never leave you. You know it’s because he’s making sure you’re safe, watching over you, even with his dick chubbing up in his pants. He tugs his weapon up to rest on his shoulder.

If that’s not a man, you don’t know what is.

“Daryl,” you start to say, following him, about to beg him for something more, but he just throws an arm around your shoulders and tugs you along. You use the opportunity with his hand on your shoulder to tie the ribbon around his wrist, a small mark of your ownership. You wonder what he’ll say about that, if he’ll be mad -

He just squeezes your shoulder. “Not tryna deny you. I want you. Me and the little guy,” he looks down to his cock in his pants, obviously referring to that. “Yer just too pretty to do somethin’ like that in the woods. My tent, tonight?” You know that his tent mate is keeping watch tonight, so you’ll be alone for a good amount of time. Enough time to - you shiver just thinking about it.

You nod eagerly.

“You sure you’re not just disgusted at what I just did?” You phrase it like a joke, gently rubbing your lips on the healing cuts of his knuckles, but you’re serious. Maybe seeing a woman behave greedy, wanting, desperate - violent - maybe it was a huge turn off.

Daryl shakes his head and tugs you closer, presses his lips to the top of your head. “Nah,” he assures, looking back down to the bulge in his pants. It’s even more noticeable than before. He takes the hand he used to finger you and sucks the digits, covered in your slick, into his mouth. The muscles in your cunt clench, at the way his cheekbones look, the level of lust in his eyes aimed at you.

“That was fuckin’ sexy,” he assures, popping his fingers out of his mouth.

────

At dinner that night, which is squirrel - so you settle for half a protein bar and a bruised apple, Rick sits down beside you. You’re eating away from everyone else, because Daryl’s helping someone with something like he always is, but it’s alright because you’re in your own world, thinking about what’s to come later tonight with him.

You’re in a trance, remembering the way he scratched at your scalp fondly when he walked you to your tent and watched you bend down to get inside. “Don’t sprain yer wrist before tonight,” he joked, insinuating you’d be finishing yourself off. He went off with a wink, leaving you reeling - because since when did Daryl Dixon joke around?

You’ve been riding on a high for the rest of the night.

Rick sitting beside you takes you out of your thoughts. You look at him and swallow the bit of stale protein bar you’ve been chewing for probably ten minutes, quirking an eyebrow at him. He’s so serious, it’s annoying.

Don’t get it wrong - you like Rick. Appreciate everything he’s done, does for the camp - he’s just so intense, but he’s handsome in his own right too. Not your normal type, but then again - neither is Daryl. You just don’t understand a man like Rick, and he doesn’t get you. But he’s the best thing this group has, because he has everyone's interest at heart. Even someone like Daryl, well -

He puts himself, and you by extension now, maybe - first. It’s not a bad thing, in fact, you find both sides of the coin admirable in their own way.

“What’s up, Rick?” You finally ask. He looks down to his hands, before nodding behind you, and you turn and look at what he’s referring to - it’s Daryl, looking angrily at Derek, who’s by the fire drunkenly talking shit about everything while people try to calm him down. You sigh.

“You and Daryl,” Rick says, and you’re not sure what to say to that - statement? Accusation? You just nod. “What about us?” You ask, and you really don’t mean to be rude, but you’re not sure why whatever you’re doing with Daryl is any of Rick, or anyone’s, business?

You expect a lecture. Something about needing to earn your keep, to stop distracting him, to make things right with Derek. Instead, Rick just pats you on the back, literally.

“You’re good for him,” he says, before awkwardly walking off when someone calls his name. No doubt for a crisis that could easily be solved without his help. You feel sorta bad for Rick - people are so stressed, so traumatized in this new world, that they don’t want to use their brains at all. They put all their problems, no matter how small, on Rick, and that’s gotta be hard.

You want to call out some sort of acknowledgement for all he does as he walks away, but Daryl begins walking towards you before you get the chance. You’re still looking towards Rick. “You checkin’ the boss out?” Daryl jokes, with something like possessiveness or jealousy in his tone. It burns you in the best way possible - that Daryl might worry about something like that.

What can you say? You’ve always thought a possessive man was hot.

Daryl plops down beside you. You’re sitting on a log, but he’s on the ground. Typical Daryl behavior. He wraps a hand around your ankle - and suddenly you’re very glad you got a chance to shave with the razor you stole from someone’s pile of toiletries after the last run.

“That all yer eatin?’” He asks, referring to the empty wrapper in your hand. You shake your head and show off your sorry apple, but Daryl just shakes his head and scoffs. “Tha’s not enough. You can’t be picky about,” but he stops when he sees the expression on your face.

You’ve talked to him about this before. He didn’t reply, but you know he was listening. Food - it’s the only thing you can be a little picky about. Everything else, you don't have any choice over. Where the camp goes, who you share a tent with. Food and now, this thing with Daryl - that’s all the power you have. Daryl nods, like he gets it but doesn’t like it, and then changes the subject.

“Are you cold?” You ask, and Daryl laughs. As kind as he is to you, you know that he’s uncomfortable when you, or anyone, tries to show any kind of care for him. He nods his chin towards the ratty blanket you’re using. “You gon’ share with me, girlie?” You shake your head, a grin spreading across your face.

“No,” you say, tossing the blanket, the apple, and the wrapper into a duffle bag next to the log you’re sitting on. “Just thought I could warm you up in your tent.” Daryl looks like a deer caught in headlights as he peaks over your shoulder to where the rest of the group is getting ready for bed, his tent mate grabbing a gun before heading to the area where he’ll keep watch while everyone sleeps.

Daryl nods. “Yer dirty,” he grumbles, standing up, but he runs his hands up and down his bare arms like he’s feigning being cold. “C’mon then. You gunna warm me up or what?”

────

The first time Daryl fucked you, he went slow. Took his time, opening you up with his thick fingers, even though you didn’t need the extra time. You were aching, wet - desperate for him to shove his cock inside of you, because you’d been thinking about it for too long. Too much kissing, humping, friction between the two of you - all you wanted, could imagine, was how his cock would feel against your throbbing center.

When he finally thrusted inside of you, stretched you out and began to fuck into you, he didn’t let himself go like you always imagined. Insecurely, you narrowed your eyes, even as your back arched off of his sleeping bag. “When’s the last time?” You asked, referring to the last time he had sex. Daryl just let out a shaky laugh and calmed your fears with a thrust that made your toes curl and a moan escape your lips.

“Long enough, pretty girl,” he assured, all while you huffed in brat and dug your nails into his shoulders. “Jus’ wanna enjoy it. We’ve finally got the time.” And Daryl was right, but really, when is he ever wrong?

The first time you had sex you got to enjoy going slow. But the rest of the times after that - and there’s been a lot now, it’s always a quickie. A rush, because shit hit the fan at your current camp soon after the first night together. The entire group had to move, you lost people to walkers (though not Derek, unfortunately), and now getting off with Daryl only happens in quick spurts whenever you’re alone.

In a way, the drama surrounding the camp has made the two of you closer.

When the entire group has to drive down a walker infested highway, normally you’d be in a camper van with the other women and children, but Daryl has your back.

“You’re ridin’ with me,” he says, shooting Rick a look before anyone can object. As he walks off, he purposely bumps his shoulder into Derek, who scoffs and does the same to you. Daryl doesn’t notice, but Rick does, and he tells Derek off before Daryl can do anything drastic like beat his ass again.

“Hey,” he warns, shoving Derek away from you. “Watch it,” Derek grumbles, glaring at you before hopping into the back of a truck with a few of the other men. “What?” He asks mockingly, because you’re frozen, watching him in a trance while Daryl starts up his bike.

Derek just can’t leave you alone - he picks on you every single chance he gets. “You got Rick standing up for you now too, huh?” He says, shaking his head in disgust. “You let him fuck you too?”

It’s not his words that hurt so much, but it’s the fact that he’s saying them at all. You’ve never done anything to Derek, have only been nice, yet he looks at you like a target and it hurts so bad your eyes threaten to spill tears. Thankfully, Daryl comes for you, and you get on the back of his bike with ease.

“You okay?” He asks, even though it’s hard to hear with the sound of the rumble from the motorcycle. You nod, and press your face into his back. Daryl takes off down the highway, leading the way while Rick follows behind, and you selfishly let yourself doze off against him. You trust Daryl, more than you’ve ever trusted another man - and that’s a lot of pressure.

Trusting anyone these days means you’re putting your life in their hands. It’s exhausting. When you tell the women at camp you’ll watch their kids while they go to the restroom, or go for a walk - essentially what you’re saying is you’ll protect their kids if shit was going south. Even just the thought, being responsible for someone else - it makes your chest heave.

Your arms are tight around Daryl as he drives. You’re not sure how long you’re on the road for when the motorcycle stops, but you know you’re much farther ahead then the rest of the group. In another life, you imagine Daryl happy and free - driving to a city, or another town on a brand new motorcycle. Maybe working in a shop. You feel a pang of sadness, that he’ll never get that.

He deserves so much more than this shit. You all do.

Except maybe Derek.

And Cindy. Fuck that bitch.

Daryl stops the bike and you get off, stretching your legs.

“You good, dolly?” He asks, and you wrinkle your nose at the nickname. You’re pretending not to like it, when in reality, it makes you tingle all over. You nod.

“You go fast,” you say, and he laughs, steps off of the bike and walks to an empty field off to the side of the highway. “‘S the only way to go. Stay here,” he orders, before walking off. He grumbles something about taking a piss and you stifle a laugh, pretending to salute him. You see his hand twitch, like he wants to jokingly flip you off, but he stops himself.

Something about that, that he won’t play rough with you, has your knees feeling wobbly. You feel like you can breathe, without the rest of the group breathing down your back, insulting you, accusing you of doing sexual things just to be treated like a human being. You try not to think about it, because you want to have a decent day and don’t want Derek to be the cause of tears when you’ve been through worse circumstances without crying. It’s hard though.

You walk around the motorcycle, eyes on the ground. You catch a glimpse of your shoelace, pink against the black of your boot, because you used the ribbon for added flair when you gave your shoelace to someone at the camp who needed a belt.

Daryl saw you, and promised you that night with his cock buried deep in your throat, “I’ll get you some more ribbons, pretty girl,” he assured, while you gagged and spit dribbled down your chin. “Too hard to hold your hair back when yer suckin’ me off like a pro.”

That comment should’ve stung, but you know Daryl didn’t mean it like that. In fact, it was so hot that you did your best, until he spilled down your throat and you licked the mess you made off of his cock and balls and thighs.

You’re lost in your thoughts, busy giving your pussy a heartbeat when you notice a little gold, bullet shaped thing on the ground. You’re not sure what it is, but if it is a bullet, you know having extra is always good. You reach down to grab it, only then realizing that it's a lipstick.

You pop open the lid. It’s a pretty pink color, and while it’s used - you can’t even remember the last time you wore makeup. You wipe the top layer off before dabbing some with your finger and putting it on, trying to check yourself out in the mirror of the motorcycle when Daryl comes back.

“The fuck are they?” He asks, zipping his pants up. He’s so, so, so - crass sometimes that it’s endearing. You shrug, and that’s when he notices the lipstick you’re wearing. His eyes are hooded, heavy with tiredness, and it makes him look all the more handsome. “There a makeup store aroun’ here I shud know about?” He teases, and you shake your head and hold up the lipstick tube.

“Found this. How’s it look?” Daryl just nods, looking at you with a strange expression. You’re not sure what he’s thinking, until he tugs you closer to him by the wrist and tentatively presses his lips against yours.

“Don’ care about the gloss,” he comments, and you resist the urge to explain it’s not gloss, it’s lipstick. “But I don’ call you pretty girl for no reason. Always pretty,” he says shyly, and Daryl is a perfect guy, but he never opens up. Hardly ever says how he feels, or what he thinks - but he’s being clear now. That he wants you, verbally, even though his actions in everything he do is always proving that to you.

It’s crazy, the feeling of happiness bubbling in your chest, all thanks to Daryl Dixon. On the fucking highway filled with walkers probably silent in their cars, with flat tires and blood stains and ramsacked belongings, you stand on your tip toes and nudge the toe of your boots against his, grabbing hold of his handsome face and peppering kisses all over. You leave pink lipstick marks, but he doesn’t know that yet - and it makes you giggle.

Putting your mark all over Daryl - you’ve never been possessive, but wow does it feel good. When you finally pull away, Daryl looks at you like you’re crazy. Then he takes a look down the highway to make sure nobody’s coming, before bending you over the front of his motorcycle.

“Grab the handlebars,” he orders, a hand on your back before roughly pulling your pants down your ass. It’s risky, knowing that the rest of the camp could drive up at any minute, but who really cares? They already think so low of you. They already -

Your eyes shut as Daryl shoves his half hard cock inside of you, and your walls clamp down around him, so tight you feel him growing. It happened so fast he wasn’t even fully hard, but now he is, small thrusts so the both of you can get used to the feeling. Your hands are cramping where they grip the bars of his bike, so tight, until it almost starts to tip. Daryl has an idea.

He pulls out, cock in hand with his fucking pants not even pulled all the way down, and he sits himself over his bike like normal. “Take em’ off,” he says, nodding towards your pants, and you obey, stripping them off until it takes too long because of your boots and Daryl just hauls you over to him.

You almost trip as he lifts you onto the bike, bent over the handlebars, eyes on the road, before he slips his cock into you. It’s like you’re sitting on his lap, and he reaches around you, fully supporting your body while rubbing your clit.

“Can you move?” He asks roughly, and you whine, trying to go up and down on his cock but it’s too hard at the angle. Daryl presses a kiss to your head, moves some of your hair back while he takes hold of your hips and ruts you back and forth over his dick. You know he’s strong, but feeling it first hand is something else entirely. It’s like you’re a doll with the way he easily controls your body, dick so thick it feels like he’s stretching your pussy into the perfect mold just for him.

“Don’ worry,” he assures, letting out a breath of pleasure right by your ear. “I got ya. Only time yer quiet ‘s when you got my cock in you, huh?”

He’s not wrong. You wish you could see his face, but this position, your back to his front, is pretty hot too.

It’s only a minute later, when his hand slips while you try to pull your body up to do some of the work, that he nearly pinches your clit and it’s the pain that sends you over the edge. You cum, that easily against him, and you cry out his name just as you both hear the sound of an engine in the distance. Daryl curses, throws his head back at the feel of your tight pussy squeezing him, and quite literally picks you up off his cock and puts you on your feet.

“Knees,” he says quickly, and you obey, because of course you do, even though the gravel of the road is a little painful on your knees. He grabs you by your hair, and forces your mouth onto his cock where he spills his load down your throat. You swallow it down and kitten lick the head of his cock clean after, admiring the pink lipstick marks all over his perfect dick as he quickly zips tucks his dick in his pants and zips up, but not before helping you get your pants back up too.

“If we live another day,” Daryl says, helping you straighten out your pants when the other cars pull up. He snaps the band of your panties, white cotton and floral print, against your skin while the rest of the group gets out of the cars to have a meeting over some bullshit, you’re sure. “I’ll return the favor,” he finishes.

You don’t know if he’s joking or not, but you pull up his arm and cuddle into his side as he stands up, his tongue on your mind even though you just came all over his cock. You wish you could’ve had time to ride your orgasm out, but you’ll take what you can get.

Rick nods to Daryl as he gets out of his truck. He looks between the two of you, and for the first time, maybe ever, - you see him smirk a little.

“‘S your color, man,” he says, closing the car door. Daryl is confused, and takes a look at himself in the rearview mirror of his motorcycle, notices all the kiss marks and another first happens -

Daryl Dixon blushes red.

────

“I wanna come,” you say, resisting the urge to literally stomp your foot as Rick and Daryl and a few other men head out on a run.

It’s not like you actually want to go, but you can’t bear the thought of Daryl leaving without you. You know he can take care of himself, but the thought of him not returning - it literally makes you feel sick. You tug on the sleeves of your sweater while Daryl loads a bag of guns into the back of Rick’s truck, the other men exchanging glances that you know are them hoping Rick puts you in your place.

Ever since people caught on about you and Daryl, they’ve kept their mouths shut in regards to you. Which is good. You’re still ignored, like before - but at least you’ve got a little respect. You cross your arms as Rick and Daryl walk towards you.

“It’s dangerous out there,” Rick says, as if you’re an idiot who’s head has been buried in the sand for the past year. He sighs. “Look - we need you here. This is your role,” he looks like he wants to continue, but Daryl places a hand on his shoulder and gives him a look that Rick knows means let me handle this.

But you already know what Daryl is going to say to you, and you don’t want to fucking hear it. “I want to come, Daryl,” you say, trying not to whine. “I’m good with a gun, and since Derek can’t go,” you lower your voice, but Derek must’ve been slinking around. He pops up next to you, and Daryl tenses.

“You,” Daryl warns, mood gone sour just from Derek’s presence. “Fuck off.”

Derek laughs, but he’s obviously pissed. He can’t go on anymore runs, at least not for a while - he’s too scared, after a walker almost bit him the last time.

It’s only when you tense up, that Daryl realizes the other reason you don’t want to be left alone.

You don’t want to be alone with Derek. Yes, there’s other women at the camp and a few other men, but Derek is a scary, loose cannon. He’s the last person you want to be around right now. Daryl’s jaw locks, and he looks between the two of you, at the way you’re uncomfortable. Someone in Rick’s truck blares the horn, and he turns around, stressed out, not knowing what to do.

“Fuck face,” Daryl grumbles, running a hand down his face. He’s addressing Derek with a glare. He walks closer to him, chest to chest almost, backing Derek almost onto his ass. Derek can pretend to be tough all he wants - but he’s a bitch in comparison to a man like Daryl.

“Stay away from her. Don’t even look at her. If I come back and you so much as,” but Derek smirks. “If,” he emphasizes, until Daryl literally shoves him. Rick calls his name, and Daryl backs off.

You end up dropping whatever you’re saying, hating the position you’re putting Daryl in - like you’re a kid who has to have your way. Daryl is just trying to help the group, he has responsibilities - you don’t need to make his job harder than it is, so you wave him off. “I’ll be fine, Daryl. Just - come back safe.” You kiss his cheek and then he’s off.

You go to your tent to avoid Derek when the men going on the run are gone, but as you walk away you hear him speaking to you. “What’re you doing with that white trash? You might’ve been a whore, but you’re no trailer trash. You wouldn’t be with him if this was any other world.”

You stop in your tracks. “Don’t talk about Daryl like that,” you say softly, but firmly. For all Daryl does for everyone - you can’t believe Derek has the fucking nerve to talk shit. You want to flip him off, but he walks closer to you, and you freeze. You’re more scared of this man than a fucking walker, and your stomach flips with anxiety at his nearness.

“I worked in finance,” he says, like it matters. You actually have to stifle a laugh, confused at why his past matters - he’s so worthless that this is all he has to brag about? He thinks you care? Is he trying to relate to you, by putting Daryl down? He’s an idiot.

You smile sweetly, as if that’s anything to brag about. All the finance guys you knew in the city before all of this - they were horrible people. Of course that’s what Derek used to do.

“Trust me, Derek,” you say, hoping it stings. “I know.”

You walk away again, but just as you do, he grabs you by the arm. You try to pull your arm out of his grasp, but he won’t let you go. He tugs you closer to him, and you wish anyone cared about you enough to help you.

“Let go of me,” you spit, but Derek just shakes his head.

“You’re such a stupid bitch, you know that? Acting too good for any of us, treating all of us like shit. But you put out for fucking Dixon - let all of us hear you letting him fuck you in his tent and the woods. We saw you on your knees that day on the highway. I mean, it’s not a secret you’re a slut, but it’s another thing to see it. And now Rick is defending you? That why you were talking to him the other day for dinner? Offering yourself up for more rations or something? You’re sick,” Derek rants and raves, bruising your arm with his grip.

“Let me go,” you say, trying not to show how scared you are. “Or I’ll fucking scream.”

Derek actually laughs, shaking his head. You’re disturbed to know that he’s been watching you? Following you and Daryl? Because the both of you know - you only ever fooled around with Daryl when nobody could listen and see unless they were trying to. You wouldn’t do that, and neither would Daryl.

“If I’m such a stupid slut, that must make you pretty bad, huh? That I won’t even put out for you,” you hate that you even say those words, like you’d ever consider having sex with this man, but you want to hurt him. To get him to see that he's wrong about you - you want him to leave you alone.

“You fucking bitch,” Derek says, pushing you to the ground.

You let out a cry. You should’ve never told Daryl and Rick you’d be okay, you should’ve -

Suddenly Derek is off of you. You’re frozen for a second, before you hear screaming and someone calling out your name.

You’re in shock as someone helps you up. You know it’s Rick, because you notice his watch. “Damnit,” he curses, and you register the sound of Daryl’s voice. You look around for him, and when you find him, you see Derek on the ground, an arrow in his head.

He’s dead - for now. That fast. Until he turns into a walker.

Daryl walks to you, pulls you into his arms. “What happened?” He asks, and you’re worried he’s going to blame you, because you provoked him, and you stupidly left your weapons in your tent. You’re worried he’s going to think differently of you, that Rick will be mad that Derek is dead, and all these worries start swirling in your head until you can’t be strong anymore. You start crying so loud that you know you’ll be responsible for any walkers coming into camp tonight.

Rick starts to talk, but Daryl, for the first time ever, shuts him down harshly. “No, man. I ain’t sorry. He had it coming,” he says sharply, and Rick just swallows, holds his hands up like he agrees.

“Jus’ was gonna say to finish the job,” and you know he means, kill the fucker before he turns.

But you don't want Daryl to do it.

No, this is a job you can do.

Wordlessly, you pull yourself out of Daryl’s arms and walk towards Derek’s corpse. Everyone at the camp has gathered around now, too little too fucking late, but Rick tries to stop you from getting closer. You smack his hand away, and hold your palm out. It takes a minute, until Daryl finally orders Rick to give you what you want.

Rick hesitantly places a gun in your hand - and you shoot Derek in the head.

────

You’ve never killed someone who hasn’t turned yet. Derek was the first.

What scares you the most, is how little you care.

After what happened, you told Daryl everything that Derek said. You learned that night, from both Rick and Daryl, that the reason Derek was so horrible is because he wanted you - and how scary is that? What if he hurt you in another way once he had you on the ground? You’re lucky Rick forgot his gun and backpack on the run, that they had to turn around and come back to camp - the reason they got to you in time.

Rick assured you that you did the right thing. Which felt good, coming from the moral compass of the group. Everyone else was kind too, apologetic - you guess Derek scared more people into submission than you thought.

But Daryl was just pissed. More angry than you’d ever seen him. Throwing shit, breaking stuff - burning Derek the minute he dragged him a far enough distance from camp. Derek never even got a chance to turn.

Daryl threatened to leave the group with just you. It seemed like a good idea at first, until the reality that two people can’t survive on their own. No matter how resourceful, strong, and brave Daryl is.

But that meant a lot, that Daryl was trying - but the important thing is to survive.

The last few weeks, you’ve kept your head down. You clean, you help cook, you even take a few bites of whatever Daryl cooks because he pretty much forces you to - and because, secretly, you like how proud of you he looks when you try something new.

You just wish the world was different. But Daryl’s been amazing.

Rick’s been kind too. Everyone has, and maybe -

The sound of the zipper on your tent takes you out of your thoughts. You’re braiding your hair since you just washed it, but it’s proving to be a difficult task. You’re thankful for the distraction.

It’s Daryl.

“I already ate,” you tell him, worried that he’s bringing you some rodent that’s badly cooked. But you’re trying to be nice - he’s the only good thing in your world these days, so you soften your words. “Come inside and cuddle.”

Daryl squeezes inside the tent, and he leans on his side by your sleeping bag, just watching you. His head balanced on his hand, propped up on his elbow.

“Have somethin’ for you,” he says, not waiting for you to reply. In his hand is something wrapped in a tissue and you wonder what it is. He places it on your lap, and you look at him, excited but also a little upset.

“I told you to stop risking your life to get me things,” you scold, because everytime Daryl goes on a run, he finds things for you. Ribbons, hair clips, a pink toothbrush the other day. Lip gloss and lipstick (he knows the difference now), a pair of socks with little bows on them that are a size too big but still your favorite. He’s always saying how cute you are, how he thinks about you whenever he sees something pink.

It’s the best compliment ever.

You look to the other end of your sleeping bag, where a teddy bear Daryl found for you on a run a few weeks ago faces you both. It’s missing an eye, has the ribbon, the first gift he ever gave to you tied around its neck, and you love it so much that you sleep with it every night.

It’s definitely seen better days, and you don’t really know where he found it, but it’s so special to you - partly because Daryl gave it to you, and partly because it’s a little part of him that’s always with you. Part teddy bear, part security blanket - just like him.

It’s also a little scraggly. Sort of rough, dirty - but cuddly just the same. Kind of like Daryl. You move it a little closer.

Daryl groans in frustration and you almost roll your eyes at the dramatics. “Hush, lady, y’know I can take care of myself. ‘S nothing,” he nods to the thing on your lap, and you sigh and open the tissue.

It’s a cookie.

Your brows furrow, and you look at Daryl, all confused. “What,” you start, and he shrugs, sitting up. He rubs a hand down his face.

“Remembered what you said, about the cookies,” he’s sheepish, as if this isn’t the sweetest thing in the world. You gulp, trying not to cry at how touched you are, but you can’t help it. Tears brim at your waterline, and you wipe your eyes.

“Oh,” he scolds, letting out a huff. “Don’ cry. I just remembered what you said, is all. It’s probably not good anymore, but you’re my girl, and I want,” you smile even as tears run down your face.

“Your girl,” you hold that close to your heart, and Daryl nods, avoiding eye contact. You don’t care. You throw yourself into his arms.

His hug is warm, strong, and you feel the stress leave your body as he kisses your temple. He was listening, all those times you were talking.

Daryl Dixon, you think, the man that you are.

Your silence must be unexpected. He pulls away, watches your thumb brush over the most likely stale cookie he probably found on a run. You’re not really gonna eat it - but it’s the thought that counts.

“You talked about what ya miss, from before. But when I look back,” pretty blue eyes look at you. He cups your chin, presses his lips against yours.

You make a note to ask for chapstick for the both of you on the next run.

“Don’ cry, c’mon. You’re makin me soft,” he complains, even as he holds you closer. You want tell him that you can’t make him something he already is, but what he says next throws the sass right out of you. “When I look back, before I knew you,” he finishes shyly, “I just miss you, ya know?”

Daryl says that he’s not romantic, but he’s the most romantic man you've ever met. He’s a good person. He’s kind, and thoughtful, and even though he’s vague sometimes, too quiet for his own good - you know what he means.

You can’t believe there was a time you didn’t know - a time you didn’t love - this man. He’s everything to you.

And maybe, yeah - this world is hell. There’s death and decay and too much sadness to catch a break, but there’s one good thing in all of it. One thing so important to the both of you, that gives a little bit of meaning to this shitty, shitty world.

You found each other. You have each other.

You sniffle and nod, holding the cookie close, but Daryl even closer.

“Yeah,” you say, kissing his cheek softly. You feel him relax at your touch. “I’ve always missed you too, Daryl.”

4K notes · View notes

blac-ivy · 2 months ago

Text

Winter’s bite

a/n: a drabble(?) for my ephemeral universe. here’s the fic if you missed it.

summary: you were a thousand miles away from home but he still seemed to haunt you (takes place during new moon).

warning: typical ex stuff. angst? no smut, just Edward being Edward.

The knock at your front door pulls you from the trance your text book had you in, It’s well past your bed time but it was imperative that you cram for the test you had that afternoon. You look to the clock ticking on your apricot living room wall to make sure you weren’t lucid from lack of sleep but the time still read 4:00 AM.

You decide to ignore whoever was rapping at the door, with Nina at work you figured it wasn’t wise for a lone, young woman to open the door for a stranger in the wee hours of the morning. You’re ready to stuff your nose back in the pages of your book when the knocking begins again. You groan from your place on the couch, cell phone in hand just incase you needed to call 911.

You grab a knife from the kitchen, holding it tight in your hand as you creep towards the front door, blanket still hanging from your shoulders. When you finally look through the peep hole the knife falls from your hand and hits the floor with a clatter, you almost find yourself dialing Nina as you look upon the boy who ripped apart your heart with his fangs.

You have to step deeper into the living room for a moment, pinching yourself to make sure you weren’t having nightmare before finding your place at the peep hole again.

Edward Cullen was standing in front of your apartment.

He looked the same under the muted porch light, save for the dark circles under his topaz eyes, not that you expected a undead 17 year old to change in the months you’d been gone.

This was the last thing you were expecting (or wanted) on a boring Saturday night. Your hair was a mess and your pajamas were stained with the ice cream you’d just devoured but that was the last thing on your mind with the leech (as Embry would call them) in front of you. Your hand trembled slightly as you reached up to unlock the door.

The dry December air hit you as soon as you pulled the door open but you weren’t sure if that was why a shiver ran down your body. Nobody said anything for a moment, you still weren’t sure if this was a hallucination coming from a twisted part of your brain, so your words were uncharacteristically soft when you decided to speak.

“How did you find me?”, You’d never told Edward that you’d accepted the offer in California after your future plans of running away with the Cullen’s were destroyed. He has the decency to look sheepish when he answers, “You were on your mother’s mind.” He doesn’t have to explain that he meant he went poking around in her thoughts.

“..And what are you doing here?” He looks down at his dark boots then back to you, your expression hard and unwelcoming. “I can’t stop thinking about how I treated you. I can’t…live with the idea of you hurt because of my misdoings. I was wrong and I’m so sorry, Y/N.” You’re not sure what you were expecting but it wasn’t that, even though it was the most Edward thing to do. But you weren’t sure you even really knew him after the incident in the garage.

“I fight my.…vampiric nature as much as i can but it slipped out of me in that moment. I was cold and uncaring and you didn’t deserve the real me- the monster.” You listen to Edward stoically from your place in the threshold. “I was horrible to you, using you for my own selfish gain after lying to you for months.” Your hand grips the door so hard you fear it might turn into dust, you’re blinking ferociously to keep the tears that threatened to spill at bay while he rambles on and on.

You hadn’t entirely gotten over Edward’s betrayal despite the months that passed, you’d decided to ignore the pain rather than confront it so Edward standing in front of you felt like ripping out fresh stitches.

It felt useless leaving Forks, you were so far from home that you’d assumed you’d be far from Edward or anything or anyone that would remind you of the brooding vampire….yet here he was.

Your lips form a line after Edward’s finishes his long winded apology then looks at you expectantly. “Well, i’m glad you were able to clear your conscience-“ You cut yourself off as you begin pulling the door closed, groaning when it’s stopped by a pale hand, your frustration growing when his words from the garage incident begin to swirl around in your head.

“No..it’s so much more. I…love her, i’ve never felt this way about anyone before.”

If you weren’t so prideful you might’ve started crying, instead you explode into anger. “Edward get the fuck away from my door-“ You push at his chest and he gets the hint to back up, “What the fuck are you doing here anyway?!”, he looks at you incredulously now.

“I wanted to make amends-“ You throw your hands up and he stops mid sentence, “No, why are you in California, bothering me at four in the morning instead of in Forks with the girl you left me for?”

The wound was definitely still raw.

Edward looks away from you now, the light wind pushing his already mussed, bronze hair. You knew you could go in the house, you knew he wouldn’t stop you from closing the door this time but for some unexplainable reason you wait for him to answer.

“….I- we had to leave. It’s too dangerous for Bella with us there. She can’t protect herself like you can.” You snort. Partly because the last time you ran into vampires that weren’t the Cullen’s you almost became dinner, secondly because it was so ironic that they ended up leaving anyway after you practically begged Edward to join you out of state.

You shake your head, deciding not to voice either of those thoughts. Instead because some stupid, soft part of you still cared about Edward your next words slip from your lips, “And where’s your family? Why aren’t you with them?” Not that you actually cared.

“They’re in Ithaca…i’m tracking Victoria.” You laugh lightly, earning a confused look from Edward. “You’re a horrible a tracker.” You’d learned this from the time you’d spent in the woods together.

“I know” Edward laughs but it sounds void of any happiness. There’s a long stretch of silence, Edward just stands there instead of leaving and you’re holding the door instead of going inside.

Your mind races with questions, the main one: did he ever really love you or he did he just keep you around? like a pet. But you won’t ask, refuse to actually and when his tawny eyes meet yours you remember that he can read minds and you never put your wall up.

He goes to speak but you point an accusatory finger at him, “Stay out of my head and away from me.” When you slam the door this time there’s no restrictions.

“Y/N-“ Edward’s voice is barely muffled by the wooden door, “I did love you- I’ll always love you….you were one of my best friends.” Edward continues even though you don’t respond, “I still think about your grandfathers song. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me and we can be friends one day.”

You wipe at the tears threatening to spill out your eyes and walk back to your place on the couch. You don’t bother looking out the peephole because knowing Edward he was already gone.

64 notes · View notes

blac-ivy · 3 months ago

Text

i was there

summary: based on all too well by taylor swift

requested? yes by @n3philin

word count: 5006

warnings: none

want to be tagged? link in bio <3

You met Jay Halstead through your brother. The first time you saw Paul after he joined the Army was at Fort Benning, where he was stationed while training for the Rangers. It was there that you met the soldiers that would be serving alongside your brother in the same unit and in particular, the two men that he had bonded with quickly, Jay and Greg. Well, Mouse, but you instantly made it clear that you wouldn’t be calling him that. Looking back, you could point to this moment as the day that changed your life forever. Now whenever you called your brother, you called Jay. Whenever you wrote to your brother, you wrote to Jay. You fell fast and hard, because nothing else really mattered when it came to love.

Something clicked with Jay the moment you saw him, and what is it they say? The rest is history?

Yeah, well… they suck.

I walked through the door with you The air was cold But something about it felt like home somehow And I, left my scarf there at your sister's house And you've still got it in your drawer even now Oh, your sweet disposition And my wide-eyed gaze We're singing in the car, getting lost upstate Autumn leaves falling down like pieces into place And I can picture it after all these days

You remember that day like it was frozen in time, tucked away in a corner of your mind you can’t quite bring yourself to forget. The air was crisp, the bite of late autumn settling into the city, but the way Jay looked at you made everything feel warm. It wasn’t just the weather. It was him—his presence, his laughter, the way he always knew exactly what to say to make you feel at ease.

You wring your fingers together, nervous energy running through your veins as you move up the short walkway. Your eyes linger on the front door of the small house, biting your bottom lip between your teeth. A warm touch encases your hands, tangling their fingers in yours and bringing both hands to hang between your bodies. You glance to the man at your side, a shaky smile tugging at your mouth at the reassuring one being sent your way. “Just breathe, Y/N,” he squeezes your hand in reassurance.

Before you can respond, the door swings open to reveal a man you’d only seen in photos with a huge grin on his face. He doesn’t even acknowledge you before he pulls your boyfriend into a tight hug, forcing you to let go of his hand. But you don’t mind, your face softening as you watch the sweet embrace between brothers.

His parent’s house is warm when you step inside, the scent of cinnamon lingering from a candle on the mantle. You laugh when Will finally greets you with an exaggerated sigh, shaking his head as he gestures to the scarf you’ve unwound from your neck.

“She’s making herself at home,” Will teases, nudging Jay. “You sure you’re ready for that?”

Jay smirks, eyes flicking to yours before he shrugs. “I don’t mind.”

You don’t think twice when you drape the scarf over the back of a chair, your mind already distracted by the way Jay’s hand brushes against yours as he leads you into the kitchen. It’s just a scarf. Just an evening spent in the comfortable warmth of the Halstead house, where Jay fits so easily into the space that it feels like you belong there too.

Later, when the night stretches long and you’re curled in the passenger seat of his truck, Jay drives back to your place. The radio hums softly, but it’s your voices that fill the silence, singing along to songs neither of you know all the words to. His fingers drum against the steering wheel, his head tilting toward you as he grins, eyes crinkling at the corners.

“You’re terrible at this,” he teases when you fumble a lyric.

“So are you,” you shoot back, nudging his arm.

But he doesn’t argue, just chuckles, shaking his head as he turns onto a quiet road lined with trees burning red and gold in the glow of the headlights. The leaves scatter in the wind, tumbling in slow spirals, and for a moment, you think—this is it. This is what it’s supposed to feel like. Like every piece is settling exactly where it’s meant to.

It’s been years since that night. You tell yourself it’s just a scarf. But deep down, you wonder. You wonder if somehow, he still has it. After moving in together, you’d gotten it back. But then he was gone, and so was your scarf.

You know how stupid that sounds, even when your mind drifts back to that night.

Because now you know how even the smallest moments can become ghosts

And I know it's long gone and that magic's not here no more And I might be okay but I'm not fine at all 'Cause there we are again on that little town street You almost ran the red 'cause you were lookin' over at me Wind in my hair, I was there I remember it all too well

Time has moved forward, dragging you with it, even when you weren’t ready to let go. The laughter, the warmth, the way Jay’s presence once felt like home—it’s all faded into something distant, something that lingers only in memories. You tell yourself you’ve healed, that you’ve learned to live with the absence of what once was.

Some days, you even believe it.

But then there are nights when the weight of it all creeps in—when the silence feels too loud, when the city feels too empty, when the spaces he used to fill feel hollow in a way you can’t explain. You might be okay. You go through the motions. You breathe. You exist.

But you’re not fine. Not at all.

It plays in your mind like an old film reel, flickering and faded but still vivid enough to make your chest ache.

The two of you drive through a small town just outside the city, windows down despite the chill in the air as you head towards Wisconsin. The streets are quiet, the kind of place where time seemed to slow, where the rest of the world felt like it didn’t exist. The glow of the traffic light ahead shifts from green to yellow, but he isn’t watching the road.

He’s watching you.

The corner of his mouth curves, that boyish smirk that makes your stomach flip, and his eyes flick to you like you’re the only thing worth looking at.

“Jay,” you laugh, the warning in your voice light, teasing.

He grins, but his foot hesitates on the brake, and for a split second, the world slows. The light flicks to red just as he presses down, the truck jerking slightly before settling. His fingers tighten around the wheel, a breathless chuckle escaping him as he shakes his head.

“Guess I should watch the road,” he says, exhaling like he’s trying to pull himself back to reality.

But he’s still smiling, and you’re still looking at him.

Falling for him.

You can still feel it—the wind whipping through your hair, the way your heart pounded as you looked at him, the way he made you feel like the most important thing in the world.

You were there. You lived it. And it should’ve been enough to make it last.

But magic never stays, does it? It fades in pieces, slipping through your fingers before you even realize it’s gone. Now, standing on a Chicago sidewalk with the cold biting at your skin, you tell yourself you’re okay.

Even though it’s a lie.

Photo album on the counter Your cheeks were turning red You used to be a little kid with glasses in a twin-sized bed And your mother's telling stories 'bout you on the tee-ball team You told me 'bout your past thinking your future was me

You can still picture that night.

The house is warm, the kind of warmth that settles in your chest, that makes you feel like you belong even when you’re still finding your place. The scent of something faintly sweet lingers in the air—cinnamon, maybe, or vanilla—something Jay’s mom had been baking earlier, despite how exhausted it made her now.

You sit on the couch, flipping through an old photo album, your fingers tracing the edges of glossy pictures that have softened with age.

Jay is settled beside you, his shoulder brushing yours, cheeks tinged red as you stifle a laugh at the sight of him—a little kid, freckle-faced, messy-haired, grinning wide behind thick-rimmed glasses and dwarfed by an oversized tee-ball jersey.

“Oh, this is gold,” you tease, tilting the album so he can’t close it. “You were adorable.”

“Okay, let’s not get carried away,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck, but he’s smiling.

His mom, catching the moment, jumps in without hesitation. “Jay was the fastest runner on the team,” she says from the bed that’s set up in the living room, eyes bright with nostalgia. The day has clearly taken its toll on her, but she tries hard not to let it show. “Didn’t have the best aim, but if he made contact with the ball, he was already halfway to first base before the other kids knew what hit them.”

You glance at him, raising a brow. “That true, Halstead?”

He shrugs, like it’s no big deal, but there’s a flicker of something boyish in his expression, like he’s being pulled back into the memory. “She’s exaggerating,” he says, but his mom huffs.

“I am not.” She grins at you tiredly, adjusting the scarf covering her head. “Will was the one who hit home runs. Jay just ran like his life depended on it.”

You laugh, turning back to the photo album, your fingers brushing over a picture of him, small and determined, gripping a bat too big for his hands. “Explains a lot,” you murmur.

Jay watches you, something softer settling in his gaze.

Later, after dinner, after watching him with a sad smile as he takes care of his mother, you sit with him in the quiet of his childhood bedroom. The twin-sized bed is still there, though it looks smaller now, tucked in the corner like a piece of a life he outgrew but never truly left behind.

“You know, you’re the first girl who’s been up here,” he teases, voice quieter than before.

You huff a laugh, tilting your head, “Yeah right.”

“It’s true,” he chuckles. “My dad would’ve killed me.”

You roll your eyes. “You had girlfriends.”

“And we just hung out at their houses,” he explains, eyes sparkling as you laugh. Then he quickly sobers, reaching out and holding your hand. “Thank you for today. My mom really loves you.”

“Any time,” you smile gently, squeezing his fingers. “I know how hard this has been on you without Will or your dad helping out much.”

Jay nods, glancing at his lap for a moment. He scoots closer on the bed until his leg brushes yours. Meeting your eyes, he lifts a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “I love you,” he says softly.

Your breath hitches in your throat. You swallow, trying to steady the way your heart trips over itself, but then he’s tightening his grip on your fingers and leaning forward, nose brushing against yours.

All night, as it was just the two of you tangled together on his too-small bed, he told you things he never told anyone else. About growing up in a house that wasn’t always easy to be in. About watching his dad drink too much, yell too loud. About enlisting, about wanting to be more than what he came from.

And for a moment, you swore you saw it—the way he looked at you like you were his future. Like you were everything.

That moment still lingers in your mind, even now.

Even though you know how the story ends.

And I know it's long gone and there was nothing else I could do And I forget about you long enough to forget why I needed to 'Cause there we are again in the middle of the night We're dancing 'round the kitchen in the refrigerator light Down the stairs, I was there I remember it all too well, yeah

You tell yourself there was nothing you could have done differently. That it was out of your hands. That some things are destined to slip through your fingers no matter how tightly you try to hold on. But knowing that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

You’ve spent months convincing yourself to move on, to let the memories fade, to stop retracing the steps that led you here. And for a while, you almost succeed.

Almost.

It’s the middle of the night, and the apartment is quiet except for the hum of the refrigerator and the rain tapping against the window. You’re barefoot in the kitchen, wearing his hoodie, the sleeves bunched around your fingers as you rub the sleep from your eyes. Jay stands across from you, his hair a mess, sweatpants hanging low on his hips as he sifts through the fridge.

“You’re not seriously eating at—” you squint at the clock, “—three in the morning.”

He hesitates before he shrugs casually, pulling out a container of leftover takeout. “I was hungry.”

You don’t think much of it. You just shake your head, amused, watching as he sets the food on the counter and flicks the lid open. The glow from the fridge casts long shadows across his face, softening the sharp lines, making him look younger, sleepier. More like the person he used to be, the one who smiled at you for the first time at Fort Benning, the one who hadn’t yet seen the horrors that could exist in this world.

Jay feels your eyes on him, studying him. Then he catches your gaze, the corners of his lips ticking up. “Dance with me.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re delirious.”

“Maybe,” he admits, stepping closer. “Come on.”

Before you can protest, his hands find your waist, warm and sure, and he tugs you toward him. You laugh, arms looping around his neck as he sways you both in lazy circles, the cool tile beneath your feet contrasting the heat of his body against yours.

“This isn’t dancing,” you point out, voice teasing.

“Agree to disagree,” he counters, grinning.

And maybe it’s the exhaustion or the way his breath tickles your skin, but you melt into him. There is no music, no reason, no rush. Just the quiet hum of the fridge, the city beyond the windows, and the way he holds you—like you are something fragile, something he doesn’t want to let go of.

And in this moment, you let yourself believe he never would.

Now, standing alone in your own kitchen, bathed in the same dim refrigerator light, you tell yourself you’ve moved on.

You forget about him long enough to forget why you needed to.

And maybe we got lost in translation Maybe I asked for too much But maybe this thing was a masterpiece 'til you tore it all up Running scared, I was there I remember it all too well And you call me up again just to break me like a promise So casually cruel in the name of being honest I'm a crumpled up piece of paper lying here 'Cause I remember it all, all, all too well

You don’t remember when the distance started to creep in. Maybe it was gradual—so slow that you didn’t notice it until it was too late. Or maybe it happened all at once, like a door slamming shut in a house that used to feel like home.

You tried to reach him. You tried to understand, the way you did with your brother. But war had changed him. Loss had changed him. And maybe, without meaning to, you had asked for more than he was ready to give.

There were moments—small, fleeting moments—where you could still see it. The life you had built together. The love you had poured into every touch, every late-night conversation, every whispered promise.

But he was slipping. Pulling away, piece by piece, until all you were left with was fragments of something that once felt whole.

You fought for him. You fought for this. But no matter how hard you tried, he wouldn’t let you in. And one day, he just stopped trying.

You remember the night it all came crashing down.

The argument starts over something small—something stupid. But underneath it, buried beneath every sharp word, is something much bigger. He is unraveling, and you can see it.

“Jay, you’re not okay,” you say, your voice quieter than before, softer, because anger isn’t going to reach him.

“I never said I was,” he shoots back, running a hand over his face, exhausted, fraying at the edges.

“Then let me help,” you plead. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

But his walls are too high. His grief too deep. And maybe, in some way, he thinks pushing you away would hurt less than letting you stay. So, he does. He doesn’t come back to the apartment, doesn’t answer your calls or texts.

You thought it was temporary, that he just needs time. That thought comes crashing down when you come home from work to find him packing his bags.

“What are you doing?” you ask—no, demand.

He doesn’t even look up, just continues shoving the last of his clothes into his duffel bag. “I can’t do this anymore,” he finally says lowly. Controlled. Detached.

Like he hadn’t once danced with you in the kitchen at midnight. Like he hadn’t held your hand like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like he hadn’t loved you.

You knew he thought he was doing the right thing. That he was protecting you. But the truth didn’t feel like mercy. It felt like a knife to the chest.

The weight of it pressed down on you long after the door closed. You sank to the floor, knees hitting the hardwood, and it didn’t even feel real. You wanted to scream, to throw the framed photos of the two of you across the room, to forget every late-night conversation, every touch, every look, every promise that once felt unbreakable.

But instead, you just sat there.

And you still think about it.

Time won't fly, it's like I'm paralyzed by it I'd like to be my old self again But I'm still trying to find it After plaid shirt days and nights when you made me your own Now you mail back my things and I walk home alone But you keep my old scarf from that very first week 'Cause it reminds you of innocence And it smells like me You can't get rid of it 'Cause you remember it all too well, yeah

People tell you that time heals everything. That one day, it won’t hurt as much. That you’ll wake up and find the weight in your chest has disappeared. But they don’t tell you that time can also freeze you in place. That some memories are so deeply etched into you that no amount of days, weeks, or months can erase them.

You keep moving because you have to. You go to work, you smile at the right moments, you make coffee in the mornings like everything is fine. But beneath it all, you’re still searching—trying to find the version of yourself that existed before him.

Before his silence became a wall you couldn’t break down. Before the love between you turned into something too heavy to hold. Before loss carved through both of you.

But no matter how far you run, you still feel like a ghost of the person you used to be.

The small box arrives on a Tuesday.

You aren’t expecting it, but the moment you see his handwriting on the label, your breath catches in your throat. You don’t open it right away. You just stare at it for a long time, fingers tracing the edges. You hesitate before opening it, hands shaking.

Inside, nestled carefully in tissue paper, is the necklace. The one he gave you, the one that had belonged to his mother. You had sent it to his father’s house with the rest of his things, thinking it was the right thing to do. Thinking that letting go meant returning everything that had ever belonged to him.

But he didn’t want it back.

You pick it up carefully, letting the chain slide through your fingers. The pendant is warm from the way it was wrapped, as if it had been held, as if he had debated sending it at all. A folded note sits beneath it, only one line written in his slanted scrawl.

It was always meant to be yours.

Your throat tightens. Because even after everything, even after all the pain and distance and silence—he still wants you to have this piece of him.

And maybe that means something.

Or maybe it doesn’t.

Your fingers drift toward your neck, playing with the small pendant you still wear. You tried not to, tried to keep it tucked away in a drawer.

Because maybe it did mean something.

'Cause there we are again when I loved you so Back before you lost the one real thing you've ever known It was rare, I was there, I remember it all too well Wind in my hair, you were there, you remember it all Down the stairs, you were there, you remember it all

You don’t let yourself think about it too often.

Not the way it felt to love him. Not the way it felt to be loved by him.

But sometimes—when the air turns crisp and autumn settles over the city—you close your eyes, and suddenly, you’re there again.

Remembering the way your heart ached in the best possible way when he smiled at you like you were his whole world. How his touch was never hesitant, never unsure. How, even in his quietest moments, he had a way of making you feel safe.

There was no doubt then. No fear of the future, no heavy weight of grief between you. It was just the two of you, wrapped in something real, something rare.

But then he changed. You still don’t know what hurt more—the fact that you couldn’t save him from the wreckage inside his own head, or the fact that he wouldn’t let you try. Because you were the one real thing he had. The one thing he had chosen, outside of war, outside of duty. And still, he let you go.

Or maybe, you think bitterly, he didn’t let you go at all. Maybe he lost you, the same way he lost himself. You try to convince yourself it was just another love story that didn’t work out. That people grow, people change, people leave. That this wasn’t different.

But then you think about the last time you saw him, the way he looked at you.

And you know it was.

It wasn’t long after everything between you had fallen apart—barely enough time for the wounds to scab over, let alone heal. And then, just like that, your world shatters all over again.

Your brother is gone. The kind of gone that didn’t come with second chances. The kind that didn’t leave room for goodbyes.

You didn’t expect Jay to be there. Maybe you should have, but you knew how upset he was when Paul decided to extend his tour. How he stopped talking to him, stopped talking to you about him.

But there he is. Standing beside Greg, his uniform crisp, his posture rigid, but his face—his face is wrecked. Your brother had been more than just a friend. He had been family. And now he is never coming back, and all that is left is an American flag covering a coffin.

The funeral passes in a haze of condolences and tears, of words that didn’t mean anything because none of them could bring him back.

But then Jay’s eyes meet yours across the gravesite.

Grief sits heavy in his gaze, dark and endless, mirroring your own.

For a brief second, the world around you blurs, and it is just the two of you, standing in the wreckage of something you once believed was unbreakable.

And then he looks away.

In that moment, you knew that what you had was the kind of love that didn’t come around twice.

If you close your eyes, you can still feel it—the wind tangling through your hair as Jay drove with one hand on the wheel, the other draped over your knee, absentmindedly tracing circles against your skin.

But that was also the moment you realized there was nothing left to salvage.

It’s been six months since you lost Paul.

Long enough that you’ve learned how to carry the weight of what happened, how to breathe around the ache of it. Some days, the memories sneak up on you—sharp, vivid, refusing to fade. Other days, they feel like a dream, like something that happened to a different version of you, a girl who still believed in forever.

Sometimes, when you think about your brother, you go through old photos, desperate to keep his memory alive. And inevitably, you come across photos of Jay, and you wonder if he ever thinks about you.

If he remembers the quiet moments, the ones that didn’t feel important at the time but somehow hold the most weight now. Like the nights when he would come home late, exhausted but pulling you into him anyway, pressing a tired kiss to your temple as you mumbled something half-asleep. Or the way he used to pull you back when you tried to leave in the mornings, wrapping his arms around you and murmuring, “Five more minutes.”

He was there too. He lived it, just the same as you did.

But life goes on.

You sigh, shoving your hands into your pockets as you walk, the cool Chicago air biting at your skin. The streetlights flicker, casting long shadows across the pavement, and you tell yourself you’re fine. That you’re whole again.

And then you see him—standing at the bottom of your apartment steps, hands in his jacket pockets, shoulders hunched like he’s been waiting a while. Like he wasn’t sure he’d be welcome, but he came anyway.

Your breath catches, your feet stopping before your mind can catch up.

Jay lifts his head, and the second your eyes meet, you see it—all of it. The weight of the time lost, the regret, the memories he’s carried just as much as you have.

You swallow hard, but your voice still comes out unsteady. “What are you doing here?”

He exhales, stepping closer. Carefully. Like he’s afraid one wrong move will make you disappear. “I was stupid,” Jay says, voice low, rough around the edges. “I let the best thing that ever happened to me walk away.”

You shake your head, a bitter laugh slipping out. “Jay—”

“I remember it,” he interrupts, his green eyes never leaving yours. “I remember all of it. Every second. Every goddamn moment I should’ve fought harder for you.” His jaw tightens. “And if I could go back—if I could undo all of it, I would.”

“You don’t get to do this.” Your chest tightens, fingers curling into fists. “You don’t get to show up now and—”

“I do,” he says, stepping closer. “Because you, what we had—it was rare. And I didn’t just let it go. I threw it away. But if there’s even a chance—” His voice breaks slightly, but he keeps going. “If there’s even the smallest chance that you still feel it too… then I’m not walking away this time.”

The wind picks up, sweeping between you, rustling your hair, his jacket, your heartbeat. You should tell him no. You should turn around, go upstairs, close the door on this chapter once and for all. Instead, you study him carefully. “Why should I believe that it’ll be different this time?”

Jay glances at the ground, and you can tell this is hard for him. But he’s trying.

“I didn’t know how to fix things back then,” he continues, voice rough but steady. “I didn’t know how to let you help me. And I know I can’t take back the way I hurt you, but—” He swallows hard, like the words are difficult to get out. “I never stopped loving you.”

Tears sting at your eyes. You don’t move, don’t breathe, don’t trust yourself to believe this is real.

But then—then, he reaches into his pocket and pulls something out.

Your scarf.

He lets out a quiet, almost breathless laugh, shaking his head. “I guess I should’ve given this back a long time ago.”

You stare at the worn fabric in his hands, at the way he holds it carefully, like it’s still a piece of you. And something inside you cracks wide open.

Because this is Jay. Your Jay.

The one who held you through cold nights. The one who once danced with you in the kitchen under the glow of the refrigerator light.

The one who left—but who came back.

You take a step forward, reaching for him the way you’ve wanted to for so long. His breath stutters when your fingers brush over his, but he doesn’t pull away.

Neither do you.

It was rare, I was there, I remember it all too well

And now—now, after everything—

You get to write a new ending.

Together.

118 notes · View notes

blac-ivy · 3 months ago

Text

I Know Places 4 (r.c)

Summary: Rafe’s mistakes might be finally catching up to him; Y/N tells Kie the truth

AN: things are beginning to happen!!!!

Previous part

Taglist: @luvrclub

It had been a week since Y/N and Rafe’s first date, and she felt like she was floating.

Every text from him sent her heart racing, every late-night call made her stomach flip. He had a way of making her feel important, like she was the only thing that mattered when he was talking to her. She’d never had that before—not really.

Growing up, she had always felt like the friend of the pretty girls. Kie and Sarah were the ones guys gravitated toward, the ones who turned heads without even trying. Y/N never felt invisible, not exactly, but she had never been the one to have someone’s full attention.

But now, she did.

And it was hers and hers alone.

Keeping it a secret, though? That was the hard part.

Rafe had been adamant about their second date being his idea. He wanted something lowkey, something personal, but wouldn’t tell her anything else.

“Just trust me, Pretty Girl.”

And she did.

The problem was Kie.

Kie knew Y/N better than anyone, and the past week, Y/N could feel her best friend watching her. She wasn’t outright suspicious—not yet—but Y/N could tell she was waiting for her to slip up.

And today, with the bait shop quiet and no one else around, Y/N decided it was time to tell her the truth.

The shop smelled like salt and baitfish, the usual scent of their summer days. The morning rush had ended, and now, with John B and JJ out doing scuba tours, Sarah handling inventory, and Pope and Cleo getting groceries, it was just Y/N and Kie.

Y/N leaned against the counter, her fingers tapping anxiously. Kie was organizing some fishing lines, humming to herself, completely unaware that Y/N was about to drop a bombshell on her.

Y/N took a deep breath. “Hey, Kie?”

Kie looked up immediately, raising an eyebrow. “Oh no, what happened?” she teased.

Y/N huffed a small laugh, but it died quickly. “I have to tell you something,” she said, her voice a little too serious. Kie’s teasing expression softened.

“And I’m telling you as my best friend first, not my brother’s girlfriend. And I need you to let me explain fully before you react.”

That got Kie’s attention. She set the fishing lines down and turned to face Y/N completely, concern flickering across her face.

“Okay,” she said slowly. “I’m listening.”

Y/N inhaled deeply, bracing herself. “I’ve been talking to Rafe.”

Kie’s expression didn’t change, but Y/N saw the way her shoulders tensed.

“Since the night of the beach party,” Y/N continued. “We went on a date last week. And we’re going on another one soon.”

Silence.

Y/N forced herself to keep going. “I really like him, Kie. He’s different than he used to be. Something happened that made him finally grow up and start treating people like humans.”

Kie was still unreadable, which only made Y/N more nervous.

“He asked me about me,” Y/N said, her voice softer now. “My favorite books, my favorite memories with you, what I want to do with my life. No guy has ever cared enough to ask me that. And I think I really like him.”

The silence stretched, and Y/N’s stomach twisted uncomfortably.

Kie finally spoke, her voice even. “Are you done?”

Y/N nodded slowly, preparing for the absolute worst.

Kie exhaled through her nose, then tilted her head. “Was he nice to you?”

Y/N blinked. She had expected yelling, accusations—not this. “Yeah, he was really nice to me.”

Kie studied her. “And you’re positive you think he’s changed?”

“Yes,” Y/N said, her voice firm. “There’s something different about him. I told him about my dad, and he actually wanted to defend JJ. The Rafe we knew wouldn’t say that.”

Kie was quiet for a moment before stepping closer. She placed her hands on Y/N’s shoulders, looking her straight in the eye.

“I just want you to be happy, Y/N,” Kie said, her voice filled with sincerity. “You’re my best friend. And though I’m not thrilled about keeping this from JJ, you were my friend first. And I get why you haven’t told him.”

Y/N felt her throat tighten. “So… you’re not mad?”

Kie sighed. “I want to be, but no. I trust you. And if you trust Rafe, then I’ll try to trust him too.”

Relief washed over Y/N, and before she could stop herself, she threw her arms around Kie. “Thank you,” she mumbled.

Kie hugged her back, squeezing her tightly. “Just don’t let him hurt you, okay?”

Y/N pulled back, nodding. “I won’t.”

But deep on the Cut, someone was getting hurt

Rafe’s truck came to a screeching halt outside Barry’s place, the tires kicking up a cloud of dust as he yanked the keys from the ignition. He barely registered the familiar surroundings—the rusting cars, the half-collapsed fence, the dim glow of a single flickering porch light. His mind was only focused on one thing.

Finding them.

The second he slammed the truck door shut, Barry was already stepping onto the porch, lighting a cigarette like he wasn’t about to have the shit beaten out of him.

“Damn, man,” Barry drawled, exhaling a plume of smoke. “You look pissed. Gotta be careful with all that pent-up rage, Cameron. Might give yourself an aneurysm.”

Rafe didn’t say a word. He crossed the distance in three strides, grabbing Barry by the collar and shoving him up against the wooden porch post.

Barry let out a choked laugh, unfazed. “Oh, we’re doin’ this already? Usually, we at least have a drink first.”

Rafe’s knuckles connected with Barry’s jaw before the man could finish his sentence.

Barry grunted as his head snapped to the side, the cigarette dropping from his lips.

“Where the fuck are they?” Rafe growled, his voice low, dangerous.

Barry wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, smirking despite the fresh bruise forming. “Man, you’re gonna have to be more specific. I know a lot of people.”

Rafe hit him again. This time, Barry stumbled, his back slamming against the porch railing.

“Don’t play with me,” Rafe snapped. “I know you were the middleman. I know you know who came into my house.”

Barry laughed, shaking his head as he leaned against the railing like they were just having a friendly chat. “You think I got control over those guys? Shit, Cameron. You don’t owe me money. I was just the guy making introductions. You’re the one who decided to play businessman and not pay back what you owed.”

Rafe’s fists clenched, his breathing heavy. He was losing control. He could feel it slipping, just like it always did.

“I swear to God, Barry, if you don’t start talking—”

“They know about her.”

The words cut through the rage like a knife.

Rafe stilled.

His grip loosened. “What did you just say?”

Barry wiped at his bleeding lip again, his smirk widening despite the fresh bruises. “The guys you owe? They know about Y/N.”

The air between them shifted instantly.

Rafe’s breath came short and fast, his chest tightening, panic seeping in through the cracks.

“No,” Rafe said quickly, shaking his head. “That’s not possible. No one—”

Barry let out a humorless chuckle, rubbing at his jaw. “Oh, come on, man. You really think you kept that little crush of yours a secret?”

Rafe’s stomach churned violently.

Barry smirked, tilting his head. “You forget how much you used to talk when you were high, Cameron? You wouldn’t shut the hell up about her. Some Pogue girl you couldn’t stop thinking about, couldn’t stop watching.”

Rafe’s entire body felt like it had been submerged in ice water.

Barry leaned in slightly, voice dropping into something more sinister. “Looks like they figured out your soft spot.”

That was it.

That was the moment Rafe snapped.

His fist connected with Barry’s face one last time, harder than before, sending the man sprawling onto the ground with a loud grunt.

Barry groaned, coughing as he rolled onto his side. “Fuck, man. You really gotta work on those anger issues.”

Rafe stepped back, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his bloodied fists trembling at his sides.

He needed to get out of there.

Without another word, Rafe turned, storming back to his truck and tearing out of Barry’s driveway in a spray of gravel.

His mind was spinning, spiraling, breaking.

They knew about Y/N.

They knew.

Rafe’s pulse pounded in his ears as he drove blindly through the Cut, the weight of the revelation pressing against his ribcage.

It didn’t make sense. There was zero chance anyone knew about Y/N. No one had seen them together, no one knew they were talking.

The only reason Barry even knew about his feelings for her was because of the past.

Because of the times Rafe had been too fucked up to keep his mouth shut.

Rafe had always had a thing for Y/N Maybank.

For years, he watched her from a distance, pretended to hate her, pretended she didn’t make his head spin in the worst way. She was the only Pogue he never really saw as one of them.

She was smart, sharp-tongued, unapologetically herself.

And the fact that she belonged to them? That she was best friends with the people he grew up hating? It only made her more untouchable.

But now, somehow, the people he owed knew.

And that meant she wasn’t untouchable anymore.

Rafe wasn’t sure how long he had been driving before he found himself in front of the Maybank house.

His heart was pounding so hard he thought it might crack a rib.

And then, he saw her.

Y/N was on the porch, her laughter ringing through the air as she helped Sarah carry in large boxes of inventory. Her hair was falling loosely over her shoulders, her sundress swaying slightly in the warm evening breeze.

She looked happy.

Untouched.

Pure.

Rafe tightened his grip on the steering wheel, his jaw clenching.

Then, he glanced down at his hands.

His bloody, shaking hands.

The stark contrast between the two—the warmth of Y/N, the darkness that had seeped into every inch of his own life—made his stomach turn.

He had already dragged her into this without meaning to.

But he’d be damned if he let her get hurt because of him.

Rafe exhaled sharply, his grip loosening on the wheel.

He had to keep her out of this.

He didn’t deserve her. He knew that.

But he’d burn the whole damn world down before he let someone take her from him.

92 notes · View notes

blac-ivy · 3 months ago

Text

Ty beloved❤️💜

I don't know how alive the fandom is but I'm on a Blaise Zabini kick.

Pretty brown boy how can there be so little for him? It's criminal.

Where the Blaise writers at? I need everything.

205 notes · View notes

blac-ivy · 3 months ago

Text

Yes please😭🙏❤️

I don't know how alive the fandom is but I'm on a Blaise Zabini kick.

Pretty brown boy how can there be so little for him? It's criminal.

Where the Blaise writers at? I need everything.

205 notes · View notes

blac-ivy · 3 months ago

Text

hopelessly devoted to you

917 notes · View notes

blac-ivy · 3 months ago

Text

This angered me in ways I can't put into words and I love it so much pls😭😭

Ephemeral.

ephemeral- e·phem·er·al- lasting for a very short time.

a/n: i was looking for some edward cullen fics and decided to write one because i couldn’t get this plot out my head(most likely been done but oh well my turn). this is my first piece of writing that i’ve shared so feed back is welcomed! don’t be a asshole though.

warnings: long asf. sorry for errors. edward cullen/jacob black. not a lot of Y/N use. fem!reader, teen!reader, slight witch!reader. maybe ooc, kind of movie and book. reader is “older” then eddy. jacob is aged up to bella’s age. au where jacob isn’t a creep. edward has more than one sperm. no explicit sex scenes but sexual intercourse/loss of virginity implied. angst? not sure if this counts as mature content but added a warning just to be sure. hope you enjoy.

The day you met Edward Cullen was cold, wet and dark.

Since you were born and raised in Forks you always assumed that this was the small town’s default weather but today’s rain was plentiful and unforgiving.

Your dad honked the car’s horn again as you hurriedly slipped on the rain boots your mother gifted you for your 15th birthday. You grabbed your umbrella and dashed out the front door before jumping into the back seat of your parent’s BMW.

It was the first day of sophomore year and they wanted to make sure they sent you off personally. You weren’t complaining about it though. Most kids your age would probably moan or groan about the frequent hugs or kisses on the cheek from your parents but with your dad being a traveling physician and your mom being one of the few doctors at Fork’s hospital you cherished the limited interactions with them.

You didn’t think they’d be able to send you off, let alone drop you off at school anyway. You assumed you’d be riding the musty, yellow school bus. You couldn’t contain your smile as you talked idly with your parents from the backseat and watched the rain and emerald trees fly by from the window.

You would’ve been nervous if you hadn’t grown up with most of your peers or if your best friend, Nina, wasn’t waiting for you in front of the school. A red umbrella protected her from the rain but her thin, grey jacket didn’t do much against the cold, you could see her teeth chattering from the backseat. You kissed your parent’s cheeks and told them goodbye before jumping onto the wet concrete.

Nina’s hair fell in soft, inky tendrils down her back and you made sure not to make a mess of them when you two hugged. She smelled like lilacs as you told her how much you missed her and she returned the sentiment.

You and Nina had been inseparable since diapers, your grandmothers were best friends before Nina’s grandma passed a few years ago. You didn’t get to see much of Nina this summer since your grandma wanted you to take the witch side of your heritage more seriously.

You complained to Nina in a hushed whisper about your grandma making you spend all summer picking different plants for her elixirs as you walked through the big, doors of Forks high school. Nina filled you in about her summer on the reservation as you stuffed unneeded items in your locker.

You two ended up parting ways; Nina going to social studies and you to math. Time seemed to fly by and before you knew it was time for lunch.

You sat in the back of the loud cafeteria with Nina and a four other girls you knew. When you plopped down in your seat you were instantly pulled into the excited chatter. “Did you see the new boy?” , Amanda (you were pretty sure that was her name) asked as she unpeeled an orange.

All eyes turned to you. “Uh, no”, you ate a spoonful of apple sauce, “I didn’t know there was a new boy.” This sent the girls into a frenzy, all five of them talking over each other to describe this mysterious new boy. You caught some of what they were trying to tell you. Tall, quiet, handsome but you had to scrunch your face up and shake your head when you caught the word freshman.

Nina rolls her eyes at you, “Oh, yeah. Y/N likes her men older.” It was your turn to roll your eyes but you didn’t deny it, even though the oldest (and only) boy you ever spoke to romantically was only a year older. Amanda(you think) shrugs her shoulders. “More for me then”

⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚

The dismissal bell rang faster than you thought it would. You walk Nina to the bus and give her a parting hug as she promised to call you later. The squeak of your wet shoes was the only sound that accompanied you on your walk to the music room.

Your parents had a rule that you had to have an after school activity and you decided not to go with volleyball this year and instead would take piano. Playing the piano was nothing new to you. Your grandfather taught you the basics and a doleful lullaby before he passed, your father taught you the rest. You didn’t mind honing your skills, especially since you were only able to play a few days this summer.

Your instructor, who was also the 12th grade science teacher, had left a note on the door saying he’d be late so you made yourself comfortable on the bench in front of the large, ebony piano. You stretched your legs and cracked your neck and fingers. You poke two manicured fingers on the keys closest to you. Two sweet notes fill the air.

Once you were settled you took a deep, shaky breath as nervousness crept into your mind. Don’t they say if you don’t use it you’ll lose it? You thought, mind once again going to the limited amount of practice you had this summer. But you swallowed that down and with no other worrying thoughts you began to play.

Relief flooded through you, your fingers pulled to the keys like they were magnets. The sounds coming from the piano were literally music to your ears. Soon you were in your own world, the pitter patter from the rain fell into the background as you continued playing the haunting tune on the piano. When your fingers finally stilled you were startled by the sound of clapping from behind you. You jumped about thirty feet in surprise and whirled around to see who had frightened you. The scowl on your face instantly disappeared.

Ethereal was the first word that came to mind when you took him in. With his perfect,bronze hair and chiseled jaw he looked like he stepped out from the pages of The Odyssey. It seemed like his lithe framed towered over you from your place on the bench. The boy peered down at you through thick lashes. A smile was on his full lips but his eyes were serious. Why haven’t I seen him sooner? This can’t be the new boy.

“Hello”

You mirror the greeting.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” Jubilation laces his smooth voice, like he told a joke you hadn’t caught on to. “I heard the music and had to see who was playing.”He holds out a pale hand for you to shake. “I’m Edward Cullen.” His grip is strong and his hand is freezing from the frigid weather. You eye the grey peacoat he wears, probably does nothing for the cold. You shake his hand and give him your name. Edward rolls your name around on his tongue, it almost sounds better than the melody you just finished playing.

“Are you new to Forks?”, You hope you sound friendly. “Yes. My family and I just moved here”, he places his hands in his coat pocket. No way he’s a freshman. “That song was beautiful…did you compose it?”, You shake your head, “My grandfather. I watched him play it growing up.” “May I sit?”, Edward asks, studying you with topaz eyes. “Sure.”, You swore you heard a waver in your voice.

Edward takes up so much space on the bench, you didn’t realize how broad his shoulders were when he was standing up. Edward shakes out his hands then begins playing a rich, mournful song of his own. Your eyebrows shoot up as you watch his slender fingers gracefully prance across the keys. Then as soon as he begins he finishes.

“….Dont take this the wrong way are you sure you were born in this time period?.” He laughs and you would’ve said it was the most melodic sound you ever heard but freshman is written on his forehead in red ink. That sly smile returns to his face as he gets up from the bench, it doesn’t reach his eyes. “It was nice meeting you, Y/N.”

⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚

You and Edward don’t speak the following weeks. You greet each other with looks and slight head nods but don’t talk again. He’s always with his family; a very muscular boy, a girl with spiky hair, a statuesque blonde and a boy who looks perpetually tormented.

You do notice him in places you didn’t before like the hall, the library, the cafeteria(how he didn’t like lunch food because he never touched his tray)and Geometry. You find yourself (hopefully) secretly studying him. Unfortunately for you he’s handsome. His light eyes, shining hair. The way he doesn’t carry himself like a freshman at all, he reminds you more of a young gentleman. Unfortunately for you he was handsome.

You learn from your mom when she calls you from one night at work to tell you that Dr.Cullen is their adoptive father. “I think it’s amazing that he would give all those children a lovely home.”

That same call is the reason you run into Edward at the hospital.

Your mom forgot her dinner and didn’t want to leave and get anything so your dad thought it would be a good time to let you behind the wheel. When you get to the break room your mom and Dr.Cullen are chatting. They both lounge in plastic chairs, you hug your mom and place the Tupperware on the white table. “Carlisle, this is my daughter, Y/N.”

You and Dr.Cullen smile at each other, he asks you how you are and you do the same. You take in his angular jaw, amber eyes and fair hair. When he’s not looking you and your mom make eye contact. He looks like he should be in movies. “Edward mentioned you played piano.” Your chest warms at that and inwardly you roll your eyes. “Yeah, i’ve been playing for my whole life.” After polite conversation you’re able to escape leave and in your rush you run straight into a wall and land on your butt.

But then a cold, pale hand is reaching out to you and you realize it’s Edward.

“Are you okay?”, his voice sounds like honey. He pulls you back to your feet with one hand and you see his biceps flex in his black shirt. “Yes. Thank you.” At first you two stand there awkwardly, then hesitantly fall into friendly conversation before you two both part ways.

The next two months are filled with studying, crafting elixirs and learning minor spells, Nina and….Edward. He’d become something like a friend…an acquaintance? you’re not sure but somehow you seem to find yourself having conversations with him at school. You’d learned little things about him like his birthday, He was gemini. You were an aries and that made you and him compatible….not that it mattered. He learned things about you like your favorite color and about your cat, rose.

Sometimes he’d come by piano practice and listen for a moment. He’d watch you with an expression you couldn’t read, maybe ask about your day then leave. Edward was just as hesitant as you were to become whatever you were. He’d say stuff like, “I’m not someone you should be friends with” or something else broody and mysterious. You’d roll your eyes and laugh. Edward would laugh too but his eyes always held a seriousness behind them.

Until one bleak day after a long,piano practice you’re walking to your car, listening to your ipod without a care in the world. You trip over a fallen branch before you realize it and you brace yourself to hit the ground. When you open your eyes you’re standing on two feet instead.

Your mind is in a frenzy before you notice the frozen hand on your arm. You fix your headphones, placing them around your neck. Edward’s topaz eyes- not topaz, they were some weirder…darker color. His eyes bore into yours the whole time. “Thanks”, Edward lets you go, “You’re welcome.” You look at the boy, you weren’t sure if that was a good word to describe him. “How did you get over to me so fast?” you ask him curiously. He smiles, eyes hard, “I was behind you. I was calling your name but I guess you couldn’t hear me over the music.”

Edward walks with you to your car, if you could even describe it as walking. He seemed to glide more than anything. Edward opens your door for you and you laugh as you slide into the drivers seat . “You are not 15, how old are you really?” Edward leans on your car, hovering over you. “Why do I always have to defend my age with you?” You look up at him, his hair is disheveled and his dark eyes are trained on you.

“Because I don’t believe you.” He looks at me incredulously, “I’m not 15 because I have manners?”, Edward asks you. A smile playing on his lips. You smile back and don’t hesitate to say “exactly”. He laughs but his voice is stern when he says, “I’m done trying not to be your friend.” For a moment there’s only the sound of birds and bugs.

“Me too.”

⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚

Your grandma had always deemed January 3rd the best day to forage velvet foot mushrooms. This particular January 3rd you were staying with your grandma while your parents were away at a conference. Your grandma lived in a small house in the middle of the woods. The only indicator that there was a house was the long stone walk way, lined by small lights your dad put up. Your parents had offered to buy her a house in town but she refused. She’d said something about working better in the forest.

You knew your grandma would need a lot of mushrooms to make the elixir that soothed the pain in her hands and ankles so you offered to find them for her. You didn’t mind missing school. You laced up your boots, put on your coat and grabbed your basket. You gave your grandma a kiss on the forehead, “I’ll be back before dark.”, you reassure her.

The sun was beating down on you as you trekked through the woods but it did little to help the cold that seeped through your jacket. You cursed yourself for not bringing your gloves. You thanked god when you stumbled on a patch of velvet feet deep in the woods. You bend down to inspect the mushrooms and begin filling your basket, there’s a comfortable silence. You jump then tense when an inhumane scream too close to where you’re foraging rips through the forest. A few birds fly out the trees but the rest of the animals go silent, or had they been silent the whole time?

A stag bursts through the bushes beside you and you’re knocked on your tailbone, wincing when you hit the hard ground. The stag doesn’t go far, it staggers to the ground some feet away.

It looked like a bear…or wolf had tried to gut it. The animal was covered in blood and more leaked out onto the cold forest floor. You sat in shock as you watched the steam rising from the dying animal. That’s when rustling comes from the same brush. You scramble to your feet, crying out when a sharp pain blossoms in the area you fell on. Confusion overtakes the feeling of pain when a black boot comes through the foliage.

You register bronze hair,a manic expression, coal black eyes and…..shiny skin. Not shiny but dazzling skin. He almost looked like he had been set aflame. you want to cover your eyes or look away but you can’t. you were ensnared in Edward’s trap.

“Ed-Edward?” Is all you manage to strangle out. His head snaps to you, faster than you ever seen anyone move. You stare at each other, you take in his skin, it reminds you of your mother’s diamond earrings dancing in the sun.

Edward doesn’t respond. Everything but his hair, eyes and feet are covered in the stag’s blood. It drips down his hands and covers his mouth in a way that suggests he ran a hand over the bottom half of his face. Finally he’s able to look away from you and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

Edward lets out a pained sound that sends more birds soaring from the trees before running away. The gust of wind leaves your hair flying and leaves rustling. You grab the basket of mushrooms from the forest floor before bolting in the direction of your grandmas house.

How was he that fast? You think as you run to the house, trying to ignore the pain in your back. If you can even call what he just did running, if you would’ve blinked you would’ve never seen him leave.

You stumble over branches as your mind races. His skin. Like he was set aflame. You had read about his skin somewhere. You hold onto that thought until you’re finally bursting through the rickety doors of your grandma’s house. You ignore your her screams of “no running!” as you go up the winding staircase two at a time.

When you reach your the small potion room you take long strides until you’re in front of the books thrown haphazardly over her desk. You go through book after book until you found the title you were searching for. Gripping its aged spine you step closer to the light coming from the circular window.

Your grandmother’s bestiary was a thick, worn, book and you knew it well. You read this book from cover to multiple times a day as a kid, entranced by the drawings that seemed to pop off the page and their fanciful colors. You flipped and flipped and flipped until you find the page you’re searching for. Instead of warm hues this page was drawn in white, red, black and grey.

The bits of yellow on the left page helped depict a man shining in the sunlight. it looked like the author had attached real diamonds portray the man’s skin. The page on the right shows a black eyed… person? covered in blood from head to toe. It’s hard to read but you believe Vampyre is written in crude, black letters above both pages. More information is written wherever there’s room on the pages but it’s unintelligible due to age.

You planned to confront Edward the next day at school. Unsurprisingly, he didn’t show. That remained the same for the next week. You kept the book in your bag just incase you ran into him though.

The sky was clear the on the Friday you decided to skip piano lessons and go to Nina’s house instead. Her mom greeted you with a warm hug. Her brown eyes were happy as you two spoke about school and her new job.

You were lying on the couch rereading a horror book when Nina suggested visiting her father on the Quileute reservation. The clock on the end table beside you read 6:00 pm. It would be getting dark soon and you weren’t sure if you should be out late with a Vampyre running around. Against your better judgement you agreed.

The ride to La push was quiet beside the light singing that came from the radio of Nina’s pick up truck. You felt wrong not telling Nina about your suspicions about Edward. There was no secrets between you two and if a vampire was terrorizing Forks she should be the first to know. But you wanted to be sure you weren’t losing your mind first.

There was a great bonfire going when you two arrived, it seemed like everyone was out of their homes and surrounding the inviting fire. They were talking in light conversation, most leaning over to try to warm their fingers from the frigid cold. You recognized some faces from frequenting the reservation with Nina. Like Mr.Billy Black who sat by Nina’s dad and Mr.Blacks son, Jacob. You recognized his friends as well but couldn’t remember their names.

Nina’s father wraps you both up into a big, bear hug. The large man practically lifts both of you off your feet. You and the others around the fire fall into a comfortable conversation. Jacob and his friends have you holding your stomach with laughter. The elders share spine chilling stories about men who can shift from humans to wolves and it has you wondering just how much of it is made up.

When the cool, night air rolls around you and Nina are saying your goodbyes. You hug everyone around the bonfire before departing in her truck. “Call me when you get home! I love you!”, You say while hopping out the passenger seat and onto the rough gravel of your drive way. You notice that your parents cars are gone and the house is pitch black, besides the twinkling light that brightens the porch. Mom and dad must be at work. Nina waves goodbye as she drives away.

You thanked god you didn’t forget your key as you turned it into the lock. The house is cold and you don’t wait for your eyes to adjust as you fumble for the light switch. You wince when you find it and bright lights flood the vast living room. You grab a bottle of water from the kitchen and fill Rose’s bowl, humming a lively tune to yourself the whole time.

When you finally make it upstairs and to your room, you push the door open to reveal a slender figure dressed elegantly in black sitting on your bed. Your reflexes cause you to throw your water bottle at Edward with a yip. He dodges it effortlessly. You scuttle to the far end of room, knocking over trinkets on your desk. His eyes had returned to their original golden color and they watched you intently from his place on the edge of your bed.

You move your lips to ask him how he got in your house but notice the open window beside you l, the white curtains fluttering from the night breeze.

“What are you doing here?”, you try to say as confidently as possible. You were scared out of your mind but he didn’t have to know that. “Why do you smell like a mutt?”, your eyes brows scrunch together in confusion. “What?” Your eyes stay trained on him as you grab your book bag from where it slouched on the leg of your desk. “I’m asking the questions.” You dig in the bag and his stare is unreadable. “And I don’t want any weird, mysterious half answers either.” You finally grasp the bestiary and he watches you flip until you find the two pages you discovered weeks ago.

You tread across the space separating you two, gripping the book by its worn spine. When you reach him you shove the illustrations in his face. “Vampyre- that’s why you were sparkling in the woods. Thats why you’re always freezing! That’s why you don’t act or talk like a 15 year old-“ Edward shakes his head, his perfect, bronze hair never moving out of place. He smirks but his eyes are razor sharp, “You think you figured it out?” He takes the book from your hands, tracing the diamonds depicting the man’s skin- his skin in the sunlight.

you cross your arms indignantly, “Yeah, I do actually.” He flips through the book, it’s a very quick motion. Inhumane. Topaz eyes meet yours and a chill goes down your spine. You wonder if you should find something else to throw.

Edward’s voice is stony, “No one will believe you.” He rises to his full height and looks down at you harshly..maybe with a bit of fear as well. “I wasn’t going to tell anyone….as long as you’re only eating animals.” You tell him, blinking up at him through thick lashes.

He lets out a sound halfway between a scoff and a laugh, “If I was feeding on humans who would stop me?!” He flits from in front of you to look out of your large window, a hand resting on the frame. You turn to face him and you hate how..strong his back looked in the moment. “I’m a killer, Y/N” He turns back to you now, his features bathed in pale moonlight. “I can control my….urges but this is why I didn’t want to be…friends with you.” He spits the word out like it burned him.

You don’t respond and only stare at his ashen face. His eyes look go from hard to..vulnerable, soft even. “How do I know you won’t tell anyone?” You walk over to him and take his large, icy hand in yours. You guide him to sit on the edge of the bed beside you. Edward watches you quizzically, you’re sure there was a smart remark on his tongue.

You snap your fingers together and a thick puff of smoke appears, you blush but laugh at the shock on Edwards’s face. “How-“ He starts but you shush him. “That’s not what was supposed to happen.” You try again..and then again and finally when you think you’re just embarrassing yourself a pure, bright light beams from your fingers. You cup the sunlight into the palm of your hand and bring it to you and Edwards’s face.

The light bounces off Edward’s skin and it’s like thousands of diamonds dance in place of his usual pale skin. You don’t think when you place your other hand on his cheek and rub your thumb across his skin. It’s still cold to the touch and hard, like granite.

You drop your left hand and extinguish the light by balling your right hand into a fist. You sit back and Edward stares at you with another unreadable expression. “I’m a witch…not a very good one but still.” You nudge his strong shoulder with yours, “You won’t tell my secret and I won’t tell yours.” And to your surprise Edward agrees with very little argument.

You two spend the rest of the night bouncing questions off each other. Edward is sprawled over your bed, pillow under his head when he tells you that his family are “vegetarians” meaning they only drain animals. “That’s why are eyes are gold,” He explains to you in his silky voice, “If we drank from humans they’d be red.”

You’re propped up against your large, wooden head board when as Edward explains how and why he was turned. “Did it piss you off that I was right about you not being 15?”is your snarly response. Edward actually smiles then mirrors your remark, “Yeah, it did actually.”

⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚

Since that night you and Edward’s relationship did a 180. You two were no longer reluctant friends but close. You met his family and he met yours. Sometimes they sat with you and Nina at lunch. Well, him, Rosalie and Emmet.

The eccentric one , Alice, didn’t really seem to like you. She seemed to leer at you like she knew something you didn’t. Other times you would skip practice and go to Edward’s beautiful home to watch him play while his skin shimmers in the sun from the expansive windows in the Cullen house.

Edward taught you about vampire gifts and you showed him a few simple elixirs for fun. You taught yourself how to use your powers to block your mind from him but the simple spell took more power than you could manage. Did you really care that Edward could read your mind? Sometimes you felt like he could do it without the powers.

You’d complain to him about school, boys, potions and your parents. And he’d complain about wanting to rip out your math teachers throat. Edward would sneak into your room through your open window some nights and you’d talk until the sun came up. You even played baseball with his family on one stormy day. He explained to from the drivers seat of his Volvo that they had to play during storms to cover up the sound.

“Will you be here for my birthday?” You asked one day when he was driving you home from school. It was March 10th (thirteen days from your 16th birthday) and that meant less gloomy weather and more “camping trips” for the Cullens.

He pulled into your long, empty drive way and you looked at him expectantly. He gave a sheepish look in return. “I’m sorry but we leave today. It’s supposed to be very sunny these next few weeks and Carlisle doesn’t want to risk it.” He emphasizes this by putting his pale hand into the rays of sunlight that entered the car.

You take his shimmering hand in yours, chest turning. You try to keep the disappointment off your face. “Don’t be upset.”, You drop his hand and roll your eyes, “I’m not upset. stay out of my head.” Edward laughs, “Keep your wall up and I wouldn’t be able to get in it.” You don’t tell him that keeping it up for an extending period of time almost had you passing out in gym.

“And anyway, you’ll have Mack or Matt-“, he waves his hand dismissively,”To keep you company.” He has a charming smile on his face, his white teeth gleam just as much as his skin. You try not to smile back and keep a stern tone, “I keep telling you his name is Chris.” But I don’t want Matt or Chris to keep me company, I want you.

You don’t say the rest out loud but you’re confident he heard it anyway with how his eyes flutter to yours. His expression is unreadable. You thought it was unfair that he could dig in your mind but you didn’t know how he was feeling half the time.

Someone calling you name is what pulled you out of your dream and into consciousness during the wee hours of your birthday. The voice was deep, irresistible even- “Edward?” You called, mind still slow and groggy with sleep. You sit up and blink your eyes a few times to help them adjust to the darkness. Edward is sitting beside you on the bed. At first you think you might be dreaming but your brain could never conjure up an image this perfect.

His bronze hair is damp and you guess it’s from the light downpour that was happening outside your window. He smells woodsy and of cologne when you hug him tight. He does the same to you, you don’t say it out loud but you missed Edward while he was gone.

“Happy birthday, Y/N.” Edward pulls the string to turn on the lamp on your night stand. You finally look down and notice a small, velvet box in his alabaster hands. “Thanks. But you didn’t have to get me anything.” You take the box out of Edward’s open hand, shivering when your fingers brush his cold palm. “Yes, I did.” A boyish smile adorns Edward’s face as he watches you open the box and hold up the gold necklace to the faint light.

“Oh my god, it’s beautiful.” You motion for him to help you put it on. When his slender fingers brush your neck you’re sure your heart is beating faster than the day you saw him in the woods. Edward’s looking at you with a smoldering expression and you have to tear your eyes away from him. “How much was this?” You begin ranting about how he didn’t have to buy the necklace but he shush’s you when his cold hand reached out and fixes the locket hanging just above the clothed valley of your breasts.

“Don’t worry. Carlisle gave it to me…and now i’m giving it to you.” You grip his shoulder as you get out the bed. Edward watches you as you walk over to your bathroom, thanking him the whole way there. The locket really was beautiful, you couldn’t help but admire it in the bathroom mirror. An image of you kissing Edward flashes into your mind and you blush and groan at yourself.

You’d always thought Edward was handsome but that was a sore topic for you. Albeit he was one of your best friends and you didn’t want to ruin that relationship…..but a kiss couldn’t hurt.

You call his name, fingering the locket around your neck. But when you poke your head out the bathroom he’s gone.

⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚

“What happened to you and Chris?”

“Who’s Chris?” You put down the magazine you were flipping through, a laugh in your voice when you reply to Edward. He sits beside you on the black, leather sofa in his room.

When summer started a few days ago you were sure that you and Edward’s relationship would tank . You were happy you were wrong.

Edward flits off the sofa and over to one of the many shelves filled to the top with cds, his back is to you but you can hear him clearly. “So…you’re only thinking about being with me because you and Chris are over?”, he feigns reading a cd. You feel like he’s genuinely looking for an answer because you actually remembered to put your wall up(even if you did drop it a moment later). You smile lightly at the thought of “being” with Edward.

“For one there was never a me and Chris. Two, I’ve thought about being with you since you walked in on me playing the piano.” You get up and walk over to the wall sized window to hide your blush. You wrap your arms around yourself as you wait for a reply. Edward is behind you in less than a second, cool air accompanies him as his limber body towers over you. His breath on your neck makes the soft hair resting there stand up.

“Good because I was thinking about tearing him apart whenever I passed him in the hallway.” Your skips a beat and you turn to look up at him. “Was Edward Cullen jealous?” You’re sure if he was alive he would’ve blushed, instead a smile paints his full lips. You can’t help but to look at them before meeting his light eyes. “I’ve never felt that emotion”, he says sarcasm lacing his pleasing voice.

You reach out and pull him into a cold hug, your face in his hard pecs. Your mind wanders to how good he looks in the fitted black shirt and grey sweats. You’re ready to let the compliment fly out your lips when Edward’s body goes rigid and he stops breathing. You look up at him the best you can, confusion painting your features. His expression is pained as he takes a step away from you.

“You can’t like me that way.” You deflate a little as you turn back to gaze at the scenery outside his window. Edward’s tone leaves no room for argument, “I’m not the good guy.. i’m a monster.” He doesn’t elaborate and you don’t force him to.

As you peer at the river with your arms crossed and the locket Edward gave you heavy around your neck, you think about how you don’t believe him.

You wave Nina goodbye from your porch and watch as she drives away. The cool morning air causes you to shiver slightly. Your parents were at another convention, this one was in Australia and with you now being 16 your parents felt you were okay to stay at the house alone (you’ve been doing that anyway but that’s neither here nor there).

You decided to stay the night at the reservation with Nina. You smiled to yourself as you think about a joke Jacob told last night, pulling out your house key to unlock the door.

The heavy ,white door swings open and a pale hand catches your arm in a steely grip, pulling you over the threshold and in your living room. Edward has you pressed into his hard chest, engulfing you in scent and it sends your head spinning. Edward’s breathing is hard but his voice is even when he says, “You and Nina were playing with the mutts again.” It’s more of a statement than a question.

You untangle yourself out of his muscular arms and punch his chest, wincing in pain immediately after. But you pull yourself together and make your voice stern, “Didn’t I tell you not call them that?” Edward had caved and ended up telling you about him and his families violent history with the wolves. Now you really knew what it meant when he hurled the word mutt or dog when he was talking about them.

You throw your wall up, eyes trained on Edward as he flops as ungracefully as a vampire can onto your living room couch. He has a smirk on his handsome face, “Its kind of annoying that I can’t read your mind.”

“Vice versa.”,

Edward laughs but your face is stony. “I don’t understand you.”

“I’m a vampire. You’re not supposed to.”, he says in a ‘duh’ type of tone. You sit in the arm chair beside him. You look in his tawny eyes with the most serious face you can muster, “You confuse me. You tell me you’re a monster but pull me into your arms? You tell me I can’t like you that way but hold me until I fall asleep?”

You tear your eyes away from his and put your face in your palms in frustration. You drop your hands and look at him again, his face was solemn but you continued. “I like being your..friend. But if that’s all we’re going to be we need to calm down a little bit..because I like you.” He huffs and looks away for you a moment like he’s gathering his thoughts. For a moment you’re scared (and a little hurt) that he might agree.

“I’m too old for you, Y/N”, he’s using his quiet, seductive voice but his eyes are conflicted. “You’re only a year older than me.” You say confidently. “I’m 86 years older than you.”

You shake your head at him, “No, you’ve been one year older than me for 86 years.” A slight frown comes to Edward’s beautiful face, “Even if that made sense, a person like you.. shouldn’t be with someone like me.” Your eyebrows knit together, “Someone like me?”

Edward lets out an exasperated sigh as leans back onto the couch. His hands fidget on his knees. “You wouldn’t understand, you said it yourself.” It’s your turn to let out a sigh. “Help me understand then!” You’re on your feet, “I can’t read your mind, Edward!” Your voice sounds close to pleading.

He looks at up you through thick lashes from his place on the couch. His voice is soft and you hear the same pleading tone that was in yours. “…You’re alive, you’re good. I am death incarnated. I won’t do anything but hurt you, corrupt you…” Edward shakes his head, “I don’t want this to end badly, you’ve been a good friend to me.” His next sentence makes your heart stutter and causes a shade of red to appear on your cheeks

“But…you happen to be one of the most beautiful women i’ve ever seen.”He’s in front of you in a second, standing tall over you. His golden stare seemed to swallow you whole.

Edward’s cold hand tentatively reaches up to your face, he twirls a piece of loose hair around a slender finger before releasing it. You can’t do anything but stare at his beautiful face. Taking in the way his angular jaw tics, they way his tounge darts out to wet his full lips.

Edward pulls you into his chest, one hand on the back of your head as he presses his face into your hair. He inhales deeply. His breathing is staggered but so is yours as he gazes down at you.

“But I can’t stay away from you”, Edward’s voice comes out in breathless whisper.

Your voice comes out the same. You’re sure if he wasn’t a vampire he wouldn’t have you heard you say, “Then don’t”,

And when Edward kisses you your eyes flutter close and you have to grip his nice, grey sweater to ground yourself. His hands are buried in your hair and he’s making the sweetest noises you’ve ever heard. You’re not sure how long you two stay embraced in each other’s arms but when you do let each other go, you can’t wipe the smile off your face.

The rest of the day is spent in your bed, tangled in Edward’s arms. Edward kisses you hesitantly, you have to make the first move for most of them. “Was the kiss good?” you ask Edward as you lay on the mountain of pillows on your bed, his head on your stomach so your view of his face is obstructed but you can swear that you feel him smile.

He sighs when you run your hand through his unruly hair and begin to massage his scalp, “It was….exhilarating. But that was my first kiss so I don’t have much to compare it to.”

You smile lightly, “Mine too.”

Edward takes you on a date the next day. Your hands are intertwined as he drives his car to your favorite restaurant. He says something about courting coming before kissing and how you make his morals weak. You just give him a kiss on his cool cheek, happy to be in his presence.

⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚

You barrel down the steps, heart racing as you slip on your sandals. You sprint out the door and leap down the porch steps, you fling open Nina’s passenger door and toss yourself into the seat. She looks at you with one dark eyebrow raised and a smirk on her cherry tinted lips. “I think that’s the fastest i’ve ever seen you move.”

You huff as you put your seatbelt on, “You told me you were ready to leave me.” Nina puts the truck in drive, laughing all the while. “But that doesn’t mean almost break your neck getting to the car.-“ , she takes a quick glance at you before turning her eyes back to the road, “I thought Edward said he didn’t want anything for his birthday anyway.”

You reach over to the radio and turn the music up slightly. “He did but this is his first birthday we’re celebrating as a couple and technically our one month anniversary is coming-“ Nina cuts you off with a fake gag, she takes her had off the wheel to act like she’s putting finger down her throat. You laugh, pushing her shoulder slightly, “I know it sounds crazy…but I want to make a good impression. I really like him Nina.”

“I can see-“, Nina sighs, “What do you get a 103 year old leech anyway.” You lied when you told Edward you wouldn’t tell any one him and his families secret. You had to tell Nina for her safety. “I have no idea. I was thinking a silver ring..he always wears a bracelet with his families crest so it may match the studs on it-“ You sigh as you look out the window, the sun is warm on your cheek, “I could get his moms name engraved on it.”

“That’s nice, thoughtful even. I thought vamps didn’t do silver though.” You laugh lightly, “Pretty sure that’s a myth. I thought that was just werewolves anyway.” Nina shrugs, “I don’t know man. Let’s just hope his finger doesn’t fall off when he try’s it on.”

The ride to Port Angeles is quick and peaceful. “Okay, first thing on the list is finding a ring.” You tell Nina as soon as you two hit city limits. The task ends up being less daunting than you anticipated , Nina ends up finding a ring as soon as you two step into the second jewelry store. It’s a thick, simple, silver ring. Timeless but old fashioned, exactly like Edward.

“Can you engrave it?” You ask the small, grey haired woman behind the counter. She nods and lets you know that it can take up to two hours. She eyes you and Nina, “And how will you two be paying?” her voice is high and nasally. You pull a band of money out of your purse and her eyebrows shoot up. You laugh inwardly, one of the perks of having parents that were always gone were the gifts they gave you to make up for it.

When June 20th comes around you’re more nervous than you’ve ever been before. You’re not sure why because Edward isn’t acting like today is a big deal but the black, ring box is burning a hole in your purse. You feel woefully overdressed as you stand outside the Cullen’s door, you’d put on your best dress, your most expensive flats and even curled your hair. As soon as you raise your hand to knock on the hefty door, it’s swinging open and you’re greeted by the shortest Cullen.

You lower your hand as Alice smiles at you, “Hello!”, her voice is chipper and you can’t help but smile back as you return the greeting. “Your dress is so beautiful, I thought you’d wear the other one. “ She turns gracefully on her heel and you follow her into the foyer of the beautiful home. You’re so confused you forget to thank her for the compliment. You were pretty sure she hated you, you guess you were wrong? or she just appreciates fashion.

When you’re in the living room you note the lack of party decorations. So he was serious about not doing anything for his birthday, you think. You feel out of place with the singular happy birthday balloon tied around your wrist.

You guess the confusion you’re feeling is noticeable because after Esme almost crushes you with a hug she says, “I thought Edward told you we don’t celebrate birthdays.” You look at her sheepishly, “I thought it was just a “him” thing.” This makes her giggle and pat your back adoringly. Rosalie walks down the steps, hand in hand with Emmet. You’re surprised the he can even fit down the steps with how broad his shoulders are.

Rosalie flits over to you, taking a lock of your curled hair in between her fingers . “Well, don’t you look like a doll.” A blush creeps onto your face, “I thought Edward was being dramatic when he said you didn’t do birthdays.” This causes Emmet and Rosalie to burst into a canopy of laughter. You cross your arms in agitation, “What’s so funny about that?”, They look at you like they forgot you were standing in front of them.

“It’s not you,” Emmet begins to explain, “It’s just that the last birthday we celebrated was mine.” You’re sure you still look lost, “In 1935.” He finishes up. That causes you to smile and giggle. You put a hand to your forehead, “I don’t know…I was just nervous about the whole vampire birthday. I didn’t know what to expect.” Emmet claps a hand on your shoulder, “Don’t worry, he’s never brought a girl home so there’s not a lot of expectations to meet.”

Edward is beside you in a second, steering you up the stairs that Rosalie and Emmet just came down from. “Ignore them.”, Is all he says as you two make your way to Edward’s room. “Why? I thought the conversation was insightful.”

“I’m sure you did”, Edward’s says with a slight smirk. When you finally make it into his room Edward plops onto his leather sofa, grabbing you by the waist so you fall with him onto his lap. He puts his face in your neck, inhaling deeply then kisses the soft skin. “You look beautiful.” Your brain goes haywire for a moment but then you remember why you came.

You begin to dig in your purse with shaky hands, “I know you said you’d come over when you finished hunting-, You take in Edward’s dark eyes, his unruly hair. “But I wanted to give you this now. Incase I was sleep or something.” You pull out the box and hand it to Edward, you’re sure he can feel how sweaty your hands or hear how fast your heart is beating but he doesn’t comment on it.

“I thought I said no presents.” He turns the box over in his hand then turns his curious eyes on you. “I know but you got me something and…you deserve a gift for your birthday.” Edward pops the box open and the ring glints in the dimming sunlight. You study his face for a reaction but its remains passive.

“I hope you can wear silver, i didn’t know if it would hurt you like in the movies.” You feel him laugh from behind you, he kisses your neck again, “I can wear silver but thank you for worrying about me.” You let out a sigh of relief. Edward carefully takes the ring out the box and inspects it, you wait with bated breath for him to notice the name engraved on the inside of the ring.

Edward’s just about to slip the ring on his finger when his breath hitches. He effortlessly moves you off his lap and onto sofa beside him. He studies the ring intensely, tracing his finger over the engraving. “Elizabeth”, he says it weakly but it’s loud enough for your human ears to pick up.

“Was it too much?” your voice is soft when you ask, you place a comforting hand on his hunched back. Edward shakes his head, “No..it’s- it’s just I didn’t expect you to remember her name.” You tsk, “Your mother is important to you so that makes her important to me. Of course id remember her name.” Edward turns to you, he has that look that you can’t read again. You wish you knew a spell that could help you read his mind.

“You don’t have to wear it.”, You try to offer Edward a lifeline. Maybe you were moving too fast? Maybe it was too painful a memory. Edward told you about his mom months ago, maybe it was something he overshared.

Then you’re hugging Edward before your brain can register what’s going on. His chest is pressed hard against yours and it causes a shiver to run down your spine. You’re not sure if it’s due to his body temperature or the proximity. His head is in your neck again, his toned arms grip your back tightly.

You stay like that for a moment until he pulls away. “Thank you…you don’t know how much this means to me.” He slips the ring on his finger then pulls you into a deep kiss. You feel like the room is spinning. Edward rests his forehead on yours. His words come out slow, “I need to..eat, I don’t want to do something i’d regret.”, He darts to his bed side table and picks up his keys, “But let me drive you home first.”

The feeling of a hand on your foot wakes you, in your haze you throw out your hands expecting to throw out a force to blow the assailant back but only produce smoke. “If I was a mosquito I would’ve been terrified.” Edward’s voice is quiet, seductive even. His hand traveling from your foot to rub circles on your leg. “You’re not funny.”, You say as you turn on your lamp light. When you turn back to him he’s lying back on your bed, muscular arms folded comfortably behind his head.

You’re too tired to put your wall up but couldn’t help but think about how good he looked. His eyes were back to their original topaz, the shirt he was wearing had ridden up to show his muscular stomach.

His hair was in its usual unruly state, a smirk on his full lips. Your heart was hammering in your chest, “Did you get to eat any mountain lions?” You’re not sure what to do..or what to say in this situation. Your mind was yelling one thing but your body? Your body was telling you something completely different.

And somehow you and Edward ended up making out on your bed. Only the sound of bugs chirping outside your window to accompany you two. Your body moved on its own. You kiss Edward’s neck and bring your hands under his shirt to grip his cold back, effortlessly pulling your bodies together.

“Y/N, we should stop.”, Edward’s breathing hard, the roaming hands on your waist have stilled. You stop your ministrations. Edward had confided in you that he was a virgin one late night after a heavy make out session. You weren’t sure you believed him. Hot, 103 and still a virgin? No way.

“It’s the truth.”, He begins to pull away, you stop him with a balled up hand in his shirt. You know your strength is no match for his, you know you could never really stop him if you wanted to. "Im sorry.”, the hand in his shirt goes to his hair. “It’s your birthday, I want to give you another…present.” You’re sure Edward would be blushing if he could.

In less than a second he’d pushed you half way across your massive bed. He has almost…feral look in his eyes. You’re not sure if you should be excited or scared. “Are you okay?” You ask tentatively, the way you would a scared animal.

“No..Y/N. I could get..carried away and hurt you, kill you. We can’t-“, scurry across the bed to him. You massage his scalp, hoping to relieve the pained expression on his face. “You won’t hurt me. I’m not a flower, Edward.”, His grip is steely as he pulls your hand from his head.

“I care about you..and I couldn’t…take your virtue before marriage. I could crush you if I lost control. I could drain you-“ You cut Edward off by covering his lips with your yours. You expect him to push you away, surprisingly he doesn’t. You pull away your eyes on Edward, hands disappearing up his shirt.

“Edward it’s 2004 not 1880, i’m sure god has more pressing things to worry about than premarital sex”. “Besides,” The hands under his shirt pull it up, up, up until it’s over his head. “You just fed. Aaand it’s your birthday and I want to do this with you because I trust you.” Your shirt comes off next. “I want this. I want you. I can take control where you can’t hurt me.”

You see him start to argue back so you kiss him again. And he kisses you back. “Of all the things i’ve done…god will forgive me for this.”, Edward says in between deep kisses, “I can’t resist you.”, his hand caress up your thigh dangerously high.

So, he doesn’t. And you don’t resist him.

Once you two are spent Edward can’t stop staring at you and touching whatever piece of you he can get his hands on. He kisses the top of your head as you lay entangled in his arms. “You’re so beautiful…if i could dream they would be filled with nothing but you.” His voice is filled with whimsy.

You blush and climb on top of him again.

⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚

The forest surrounding your grandmother’s house is vibrant as you and Edward relax on an itchy patchwork blanket. His fingers are idly playing with your hair as you lay your head on his chest, you had asked Edward why he was forcing himself to go to high school and he gave you his reasons. They made sense, being able to stay in places long did have its advantages but you felt like it had to be torture and you voiced that to him.

“Oh, it is torture. Especially when you have my abilities. Mike was thinking about you so much last week I almost poked his eyes out.” You let out a hearty laugh, sitting up on your elbow to look at him. “Then stop torturing yourself…you can come with me to college next year.” Edward turns to you, a cheesy grin lighting up his face. “I have multiple degrees, I don’t need college either.” You roll your eyes, “sooo…don’t go to classes. The world is our oyster, i’m just saying there’s so much more than forks high school.”

You look at Edward, trying to catch his eyes to get some semblance of how he’s feeling but he’s too busy staring at the gloomy sky. You lay back down on his chest and you two are quiet again for the moment.

“I can’t leave my family.”, you grip the soft material of his shirt, you’re not sure why you do. Maybe to ground yourself? get Edwards’s attention? Either way your words come out before you can think about them, “They can come with us! ooor I can go to a school closer to Forks.I…just don’t want to be without you.” You hide your blushing face in his shirt and Edward runs his fingers through your hair in a manner you guess is supposed to be soothing.

“Don’t change your aspirations for me, we’ll figure it out…because I can’t be without you either.” You smile to yourself and wished you could stay in this moment forever.

⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚

You wish you believed your dad when he told you that high school was a fleeting chapter because before you realized it you were a senior with four months of school left. You had been so wrapped up in applying for colleges, hanging out with Nina, studying spells, going to La push and being with Edward you felt like the time had slipped from your fingers.

The admissions letters were burning a hole in your backpack when you sat down at your usual lunch room table. You couldn’t wait to tell Edward that you got into both top picks, one in Seattle and the other in California. Now if it was up to Edward to let you know if he wanted to stay in Forks or if he’d be following you. Either way you wanted to be near him.

Nina had been close to throwing up when you told her you were waiting to accept after you talked to Edward. She instantly went into a rant about how you shouldn’t base your decision on a boy. And you knew everything she was true, you just felt like you couldn’t be without him. You felt like you…loved him.

“Did you hear we’re getting a new girl?” Amanda says when you finally get yourself settled at the table. “Yeah, Chief Swan’s daughter. I think her name is Becky?”, Nina says before stuffing a hand full of chips in her mouth. “I would hate having to move schools this late in the year.” Michelle, a scrawny girl with brown hair comments, the table murmurs their agreements. “I wonder when she’ll be here it’s already the 17th.” Michelle continues.

You realize that you don’t have to wait too long because Isabella Swan is at school the next day. You only see her in passing in the hall ways. She’s a pale, plain girl with long, brown hair. You swear she trips over her feet five times before she’s halfway down the hall.

The next time you see her is at lunch, she’s staring at you with a look you can’t place. No- she’s not staring at you but the boy whose hand you’re holding. You laugh to yourself, you probably stared at Edward the same way the first time you saw him. You kiss him softly, then release his hand so you can go to your respective lunch table.

⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚

“What do you mean Edward’s in Alaska?!”You’re sure your eyebrows look like they’re ready to fly off your face in surprise. You had received a cryptic text from Edward right before the dismissal bell rang saying he cared for you and would see you soon. In your confusion the only thing you thought to do was go directly to the Cullen’s house where you ran into Rosalie. “He had to visit our cousins there, I’m sure he’ll talk to you about it when he gets back-“, Rosalie puts a reassuring hand on your shoulder, “He’s going to be okay, Y/N.”

Edward returns a week later, Rosalie was right about him being okay. Edward is more relaxed than you’ve ever seen, it’s like he has a new pep in his step. When you confront him about his disappearance he kisses you hard on the mouth telling you not to worry, he had some “things” to take care of. You want to push him for more information but don’t, you’re just happy to see him after his absence.

Later that day, you’re standing in the schools parking lot talking with the Cullen’s after school. You’re throwing your head back in laughter after Jasper says something surprisingly funny when you hear the sound of screeching tires. Edward is beside you one moment and gone the next. Your eyes search frantically around the parking lot for him.

Jasper and Rosalie make noises of anger beside you then begin speaking in hushed, aggravated whispers. Then your eyes lock on Edward and you see what’s got the Hale twins so mad. He’s stopped a van from crushing Bella Swan with his barehands. Your eyes are wide in shock and you can’t seem to form words, did Edward just blow him and his families cover? Your eyes dart around but you can’t figure out if anyone saw the extreme feat.

Edward takes off the from the scene, the Cullen kids scramble to get in their cars and you turn on your heels to begin walking home.

“Where are you going?!”Rosalie says in an exasperated tone. You point over your shoulder awkwardly as she stares at you with fiery eyes, “I was gonna walk-“, Rosalie cuts you off as she pulls open the drivers door so hard you think it may fly off its hinges. “No, i’ll drop you off. Edward would kill someone if he found out you walked home and people are being killed.” Her tone leaves no room for argument so you pull the passenger door open and sit in the seat.

Rosalie’s anger is rolling off her in waves as she drives to your house. You’re surprised her head hadn’t started smoking. “I’m sure no one saw him.” You offer weakly, trying to alleviate the girls stress. Her head snaps to you then back to the slippery road, she looked like she wished she let you walk. “That’s not the point. Edward is getting reckless. No offense, but he already fucked up telling you-,” You raise your eyebrow slightly, a little offense taken but you let Rosalie continue her rant. “And now this..we’re lucky if we don’t have to leave tonight.”

Rosalie pulls in front of your house, her car almost on two wheels from the speed. You thank her as you get out the car and she’s pulling off the second your feet touch the wet grass.

You curse and think about pulling your hair out as you do your math homework. You look at the clock, it was going on 11:30 pm and you still have five more questions. You’re ready to toss your book at the wall when your phone rings, you ignore it trying to focus on the daunting task in front of you when it rings again.

You let out a frustrated groan as you pick the phone up, it’s your mom calling from the hospital. “Mom, i’m trying to do-“, she cuts you off, “Y/N, I heard about what happened at the school. Your boyfriend’s such a hero for pulling Chief Swan’s daughter away like that. She’s lucky he was there.” You give her a mhmm, trying to hurry her off the phone but she continues. “He even came up here to check on her! He is such a gentleman. You got lucky with that one.”

Once you’re done with your homework and tucked in your bed, your mind starts to go over what your mom said. He came to the hospital to check on her? You try not to jump to conclusions because the poor girl did almost get crushed by a van…but when has Edward been this empathetic? You fall asleep trying to push the thoughts out of your mind.

Your woken out of your sleep sometime later. There’s a cold body pressed against your back and an arm slung around your waist, you involuntarily shiver. “Edward?”, You say groggily.

“Go back to sleep, I didn’t mean to wake you.” , You turn to look at him not bothering to throw your wall up. “Why did you visit Bella at the hospital?”, You try to make out his face in the dark but it’s too hard for your human eyes. “I had to make sure she didn’t suspect anything.” His chilling hand rubs your neck tenderly and you’re thinking about grabbing another blanket when Edward is putting it over you and him.

Get out of my head, you think causing Edward to laugh.

You fall asleep in his arms shortly after.

When you wake up you’re alone.

⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚

A while later you’re sitting in your usual spot at lunch. Nina is obliterating the food she brought and you can’t focus on yours because you’re too busy watching Edward and Bella talk near the salad table. You hadn’t meant to stare…but once his nimble body got up from his usual lunch table not to join you but to catch her falling apple you couldn’t help but peek.

“You better let that go before it gets everywhere.” You look at Nina then look at the juice you’re squeezing in your hand. “I didn’t realize…”, You trail off trying watch of the rest of the interaction. You look at Nina roll her brown eyes instead. “Just look at them, I’ve been watching this entire time.”, Nina says it low, like she doesn’t want the other girls to hear. “They look cozy.”, she says in the same low tone.

Nina looks back to you, her pretty face is stern. “We’ll talk later.”, You gulp. You feel like you a child who just got reprimanded by their parents. You throw a wall up when you feel a pair of eyes on you. You don’t have to look to know it’s Edward, you would know those tawny eyes anywhere. You make yourself eat some food, you didn’t want to pass out in the middle of the cafeteria because the wall was draining your powers.

You made a list during your last class of the day just to get your racing thoughts together. You wrote hurriedly on a crumpled sheet of notebook paper from your bag, it only contained two things to do. First: ask Edward about his conversation with Bella, the second: talk to Nina.

You couldn’t decide if you should ask Edward about his conversation with Bella or confront him. Like Nina said they did look pretty comfortable. You chew the end of your pen in frustration. You remember him telling you that he spoke to her at the hospital that late night in your bed. So what else would they need to discuss?

You have your umbrella open as you walk to where Edward usually parks his silver car. He’s waiting for you alone, his siblings long gone. You throw your wall up, munching some of the rice krispie you held in your free hand. Being that you were a senior your parents had become lenient with having an after school activity. You asked Edward to wait for you while you talked to your counselor about being accepted into your top schools.

Unfortunately, her suggestion was going to the school in California. She felt like you could really push your self there and also get away from the city you grew up in…you just had to accept the offer. You don’t greet Edward as you get in the passenger seat of his Volvo. He probably knows my wall is up.

You clear your throat looking outside at the trees before looking at Edward. Your mind is split, you want to talk about Bella and also wanted to know if Edward (and maybe his family) had made his mind up about following you to California or even to the school in Seattle.

So, you just dive in. “What were you and Bella talking about?”, You can’t help the smirk he swallows down. “No, hello or how are you?”, Your mouth forms a straight line. “You didn’t even acknowledge me today, so maybe I should be the one asking.”, Edward’s honey eyes are trained on you, you know he’s probably annoyed that he can’t read your mind. You feel the exact same way.

He lets out a sigh, taking your hand in his. He’s rubbing soothing circles on your palm. “Bella invited me to La Push, she said she’s going with her friends.” Your eyebrow quirks up, “…She only invited you?”, You say slowly. Edward squeezes your hand, “She invited you by extension because she knows you’re my girlfriend.”, You think Edward can see the green eyed monster on your back, when you snatch your hand from his and fold your arms.

“Okay. Let’s go, I have plenty of friends in La Push.” You had gotten to know Jacob and his tight band of friends during your junior year, much to Edward’s displeasure. His jaw ticks in anger, “You know I can’t go there.”, His hand reaches out and caresses your cheek. “Bella is only my friend.” You look at him, he was so beautiful it hurt. You couldn’t resist him. You couldn’t stay mad, especially when you had male friends of your own.

You finish the rice krispie that fell in your lap.

“Okay... l I trust you. But if there’s something you need to say then say it.” Edward kissed you then. It’s soft and sweet and you want to curl in his lap like a purring cat.

But what you don’t say out loud. What you hide behind your wall is that you’re not sure if you believe him.

⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚

When the weather gets too nice for Edward to be at school you decide to disappear with him for the day. You make him help you pick Pacific Bleeding Heart’s for a paste your grandmother wanted you to make. You explain to him what the paste was for and how you’d grind the flower, the bubbling river beside you two echoing your words.

You watch his skin sparkle as you practice using your powers, he kisses you every time you’re able to successfully do a spell.

“Oh yeah, don’t forget about my recital tomorrow!”, You say holding Edward’s hand as you walk back to your grandmothers house. “My mom said she would try to come and you know my grandmas too sick. I’d like you to be there.”

Edward pulls his hand from yours and tosses your arm over his shoulder, he picks you up like he’s cradling a baby and sprints you two back to the slanting house.

He places you on the ground to face him, “You know I wouldn’t miss it for the world-“ he kisses you deeply with both hands cupping your face, “But i’m hungry and I think I hear something good.”

And with that he’s gone.

⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚

“Oh, that’s tonight?”, Your mom says through the speaker of your cell phone. You hold it to your ear with shaky hands, “Yes, mom. I’ve been telling you and dad for months.”, You try to mask the irritation in your voice.

You hear the sound of your mom’s name being called and the beeping of machines. “I’m-I’m so sorry baby. I promise your dad and I will make this up to you when he gets back from Wisconsin.”, She speaks to someone and they respond in an urgent voice, “Y/N? I have to go. Please don’t walk home you know those people were killed. Ask Nina or Edward to take you home. I love-“ The phone hangs up before you can finish.

You cry out in frustration, maybe it was anger? Or sadness? Could be all three, you’re too devastated to tell. Nina would be at work but you didn’t fault her for it, she had to pay for college somehow. Everyone wasn’t lucky enough to have two doctors for parents. You call Edward twice but go to his voicemail. He was probably getting ready or having angsty Edward thoughts about his would be next victim.

After you finish throwing a temper tantrum you call the next person you can think of.

Amanda gives you 40 minutes to get ready. You had already showered so it gives you enough time to lightly do your make up and style your hair in an elegant updo. You put on the dangly, diamond earrings your parents bought you to accompany the necklace Edward gifted you.

You throw on the long, black dress the school provided for tonight. You think it’s pretty cute considering its from the school with its square neck and bell sleeves. You admire yourself in the mirror before pulling on your short, black heels. Then rush down stairs to the car idling in your empty drive way.

“Thank you so much.” You tell Amanda, giving a polite smile to the girl in the passenger seat holding Amanda’s flute. You reply to Nina’s good luck text telling her you love her. You text Edward and tell him you can’t wait to see him.

Your solo is close to the end of the performance so you watch from the curtains for his golden hair and muted skin but.. it never appears.

Your chest clinches when your music teacher tells you it’s your turn to go on. You have to force yourself to hold your head high with a pretty smile on your face. It hurts when you sit on the rough piano bench because you know none of the faces in the crowd came to see you. Your throat is getting tight as you scan the crowd one more futile time. You want to scream and cry. You want to run away and hide in embarrassment.

But you don’t.

Instead you bring your manicured fingers to the keyboard and you begin to play.

You decided to play your grandfathers song, at first you thought the melody was too sad but it matches your mood perfectly now. As you play you push all your pent emotions into the keys, a few tears escape your eyes as your adrenaline rushes. The beautiful notes float through the air and fill the schools large auditorium.

Your fingers dance over the glistening keys as you play the haunting melody. You know you finish strong when the music excites even your ears but what you didn’t expect was the standing ovation from the crowd after you rise from your seat and curtsey. It only lasts for a minute but it puts a real smile on your face as you return behind the stage.

There’s no flowers waiting on you when the recitals over. You get a few polite hugs or pats on the back but no pictures, no “you did so well!”s, you try not to think about it too hard. To add to your growing frustration you couldn’t find Amanda anywhere, you had searched the entire school for her. You tried calling Edward but his phone went straight to voicemail. Now you sat on the schools steps in defeat as you watched everyone get in their cars and leave, working yourself up for the walk home.

You were happy it didn’t rain but you still cried the whole walk home. You were lucky there were no murderers lurking in the trees because you would’ve been a pretty easy target.

When you finally make it home you kick off your shoes and toss Edward’s necklace in the trash. You couldn’t believe he had stood you up, Edward had never been the type to leave you stranded or not answer the phone. He was too much of a gentleman…you guess you were wrong.

You sat at the kitchen bar in disbelief for a moment, swirling your spoon in the soup you were making yourself eat. Rose rubbing against your dangling feet as she purrs.

When you wake up the next morning, through the grogginess of sleep you realize you’re not alone. Edward has his arms around you as he watches the sunrise over your head and through your bedroom window. You huff, “You’ve got some nerve.”, You throw his arms off you and slip from your soft bed. You stop when you notice the beautiful, blood red roses sitting in a glass vase on your dresser.

You’re e contemplating throwing them out when Edward’s hand grabs your wrist lightly, you’re tired but you throw up your wall. You didn’t feel comfortable with Edward digging around in your head today. “Please don’t throw them aw-“ You cut him off, “You think flowers will fix this?”, You say harshly, ripping your wrist from his grasp.

You turn to face him with fire in your eyes. His hair is in its usual disheveled state, his topaz eyes are solemn. “Y/N, I’m so sorry i missed your recital-“, You throw your hands up in contempt, “You didn’t just ‘miss my recital’. I was there alone, I had to walk home in the dark while people are being ripped apart. You didn’t pick up the phone or answer my texts. Since when is that you Edward?”

You begin to walk into your bathroom, Edward hot on your trail. He watches you silently as you turn your shower on. “Is there something you need?”, You ask, voiced laced with anger.

Edward gets down on his knees, taking you by surprise as he hugs your waist. His face is dejected as he looks up at you, his scent is captivating as you weakly try to push him off but Edward’s grip is like a vice. Before you can protest he’s begging for your forgiveness.

Edward’s full lips move rapidly, “My cousins from Denali-the ones I visited in Alaska have come. They-They aren’t vegetarians like me and my family. I had to help..control them..we’re trying to show them the way.”His eyes search yours as he stands to his full height, choosing to engulf you in a hug.

His tantalizing scent clouds your mind but you still manage to shake your head as you look up at him, “No offense but that shouldn’t have stopped you from calling.” You try to break free from his arms but he’s too damn strong. Sometimes you forget that you’re really dating a vampire.

The sound of the running shower water is all you hear for a moment then Edward’s releasing you and hanging his head. You’re torn because you’re definitely still angry due to the night before but you loved Edward for trying to stop the loss of innocent lives. He sits on the toilet, watching you silently again as you slip off your night clothes and slip into the still running shower.

When you get out Edward’s still sitting there to your surprise. He watches you get ready quietly, following behind you like a scolded puppy. You’re sitting at your vanity doing your hair when he says, “I don’t blame you if you decide you want to leave me…I would too. I’m..terrible..” When you glance at him his head is in his hands as he sits on your bed.

You huff, feeling a slight sadness for the…boy?, “I’m not leaving you Edward…You just pissed me off. I didn’t deserve that accident or not. I thought you’d be there for me.” You look up and his gold eyes are on you, then he’s over to you in a second and kissing you sweetly.

“And when do I get to meet these cousins?”, You ask with an eyebrow raised. Edward laughs, elated to be back in your somewhat good graces, “When they decide they can be with humans without disemboweling them.”

⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚

After making Edward promise that he’d never disappear again, he becomes….distant. Not in the sense of him not being there (not that he is there) but he’s always in his head the sporadic times you two are together. You try to ask him what’s wrong but he always blames it on stress, sometimes saying nothing at all.

With Edward’s reoccurring absences you start going to La Push to hang out with the Quileute kids regularly.Since senior year you’d seen them less. It felt good kicking your feet back with Nina and Leah and laughing at the boys jokes. You listen to Jacob’s troubles with a unnamed girl and try to give him the best advice possible given his peculiar situation.

“Baseball tomorrow?”, You ask Edward when you notice that the next day will be particularly bad weather. Edward leans on his car, getting ready to depart from your house. He’s looking past you for a moment, he’s so wrapped up in his thoughts he doesn’t hear you and you have to ask him again. “Uh, no..it wouldn’t be safe with my cousins and all.”, He fixes your slipping robe , tawny eyes trained on you now. “And stay inside, I don’t want you getting mauled or anything.”

You agree, leaning into to him, “Okay but…ever since your cousins came I feel like i barely get to see you anymore. I miss you.” Edward strokes your cheek, “Things will be different soon.”

You don’t actually take Edward’s advice. You slip on some black leggings and one of Edward’s jackets before meeting Nina outside. You two had decides to drive Port Angeles to find prom dresses, Nina had asked Embry over a romantic dinner a month or so ago and you just assumed you’d be going with Edward. “I hope all the good stuff isn’t gone.” Nina says nervously when you two finally arrive.

After a few hours of searching and deliberation Nina finds a simple but beautiful plum gown, it’s sequined around its sweetheart neck line and brings out her brown eyes and skin. You go with a strapless, mid length dress, It’s sage green with a barely noticeable floral pattern printed on it. You almost didn’t get it until Nina tells you how good your boobs look in it.

You pay for both the dresses and both pair of heels out of the “i’m sorry for missing your recital” money from your parents. Nina is promising she’ll pay you back on the drive home but you wave a manicured hand to brush her off. “Nina, you never have to pay me-“ Your words are cut off by the screech of the cars tires and the sound of the hood of Nina’s truck being crushed.

“What the fuck?!”, Your neck lurches forward due to the impact and it causes your head to become dizzy. Through your haziness you’re able to see three figures. All pale and beautiful. You instantly recognize them as vampires. The man with the ponytail has stopped Nina’s truck with one hand, there’s a crazed look in his…red eyes. Red, that means they drink from humans. Your heart races as you realize how bad of a situation you and Nina are in.

You watch the three vampires and they seem to be arguing. A woman- a red head with crazy hair and a slender man with shiny,black hair seem to be disagreeing with the one who stopped the car. You take this as an opportunity to click off your seat belt and grab your phone from your purse in the back seat to call Edward.

You feel Nina’s wide, brown eyes watching you before you hear two doors open and you two are both pulled out the car and thrown onto the asphalt.

You let out a cry when your head hits the ground hard. Before you can protest your being picked up by your throat and held in the air, “James.”, the one with the glossy, black hair says, almost like he’s talking to a petulant child. James turns his head, to look at them and you look from your peripheral. Nina is struggling as best as she can as the red head holds her by her hair, you watch as she licks her lips like a lion ready to pounce.

“Shut up, Laurent! You’re not stopping me from tearing this one apart.” James licks his lips this time, “I need a snack” You smack the hand around your neck and he squeezes it before letting you go. You fall to the ground with a thud, scrambling to get as far away as possible while taking shaky breaths. A boot comes down hard on your back to stop you and you let out a scream.

“You smell him on her don’t you? This isn’t smart.” The boot on your back twists and you let out another pained cry. You feel lucky that you haven’t heard any bones break yet. “Exactly. He stopped me from eating the last one. Why should I have to suffer because he likes his pets?” James hurls the word out like it’s a slur.

You hear Nina cry out and then a soft, feminine voice begins speaking, you imagine it to be the pale, red head woman. “James, my love. Leave her and let’s focus on the other girl..this one doesn’t smell nearly as good anyway.” It’s quiet for a moment. You’re not sure if you’re breathing, you’re waiting to feel fangs rip your throat out or an icy hand to grab you when you hear the crunch of gravel and Nina screaming your name.

She helps you stand, her face is terrified when she says, “What the fuck just happened?”. You look at her and you’re sure your face is conveying the same emotion, “I’m not sure but we need to get to Edward’s house.”

Nina agrees as she makes her way to the trucks destroyed hood, “If this piece of junk can make it.”

⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚

You don’t wait for the truck to stop moving when you two arrive at the Cullen’s. You jump out as quickly as you can with the throbbing pain in your back and neck and don’t stop moving until you get to the large front door. You knock and the action causes the unlocked door to open slightly, before you can stop yourself your pushing the door open and stepping over the threshold.

You’re half way into the house when you’re briefly grabbed and shoved into the wall before being let go. “I thought you were someone else.” Is the only explanation Rosalie gives. You take in the girls disheveled appearance and forget about the events that just transpired for a moment. “Is everything okay? did something happen with your cousins?”, Rosalie looks at you like you grew three heads.

“My cousins?”, she says quizzically. “Yeah..the cousins you were helping get off the human stuff…from Alaska?”, Rosalie looks at you again before understanding blooms in her eyes. You’re still confused when she lets out a sound of annoyance, she shakes her head as a look of disappointment comes to her face.

Rosalie’s eyes soften when she looks at you, “I’m sorry,Y/N. But I think Edward’s been lying to you.”, Now it’s your turn to look at her like she’s grown extra limbs. “What-What are you-“ She cuts you off, eyes darting off somewhere, you don’t even think to look as your head reels.

“Our cousins from Denali were never here, Y/N” Rosalie begins to sink down and you’re confused as to why until you’ve realized you moved into a sitting position. “Edward said you two broke up…I guess he’s been telling you a lie about our cousins to spend time with Bella.” You let out a weak laugh. To spend time with Bella, the words ring in your mind.

Your confusion turns to sadness, “So, what did he say was going on when I came around?”, Rosalie winces before she strikes the next blow. “He…said you wouldn’t leave him alone and he needed to make sure you weren’t going to tell anyone about us.” Your heart drops into your stomach. Not only was he lying to you, but he was telling his family that you were chasing after him like a love-obsessed stalker.

Rosalie rises then offers you a pale hand, you look her with teary eyes when taking it. “I’m sorry, Y/N….I kind of suspected but wasn’t sure.” You scoff, snatching your hand from hers once you’re on your feet. “You suspected but didn’t come to me?! We see each other almost everyday at school what kind of shit is that?!” Rosalie’s eyes turn hard at your outburst but you couldn’t care less.

She points a manicured finger at you, “I may like you and Edward may be wrong. But Edward is my brother and I would never go against him.” You don’t acknowledge her reply with words, only shaking your head and asking where Edward was. “He’s in the garage-“ Your legs start to move, the pain you experienced earlier far from your mind. Rosalie flits in front of you, “But I don’t think you should go down there.” You brush past her.

The garage is in chaos when you make it down the stairs. Bella, Carlisle and Edward’s intense conversation pauses as they watch you stalk wordlessly over to Edward. Carlisle calls your name just as you push the boy, he doesn’t budge but you don’t care as you push him again.

“You’ve been lying to me this whole time!” You roar. You go to punch him but Edward stops you softly.

You want to cry but you refuse to let the tears fall in front of them. Edward looks sad as he holds your wrist, “You were with Bella the night you missed my recital?”, you ask Edward in a brashly.

He doesn’t answer, choosing to look everywhere but your face. So, you look towards the brunette. She nods her head in confirmation and it takes everything in you not to strangle them both.

“Then make time! I almost died today and now this?! You’re going to hear me.” Edward looks confused until you let him into your mind and show him the pain you endured just moments ago.

Edward releases your wrists, he takes a step back and goes to touch the bruises forming around your neck. You smack his hand, “Don’t touch me.”, You spit venomously.

Edward explains what happened with the trio of vampires and Bella, you laugh bitterly in his face. “Let me get this straight. You lied to me to take her-“ You point to Bella, “Now they want to kill you and eat her? Sayonara. I love when people get instant karma.” You turn on your heel to leave but Edward appears in front of you, grabbing your wrist.

“Didn’t I tell you not to touch me?”, He doesn’t let your wrist go. A tear escapes as your anger turns to sadness. “Why Edward? I thought we had something. You do know lying is a sin right? What happened to caring about your soul?”, Edward winches.

“Yes, Y/N. I know. I told you that you make my morals weak. Im not good…I said I was a monster. It’s in my nature to hurt people. I didn’t mean for this to happen…I care for you. I only lied to you because I wasn’t sure how to tell you that my feelings became platonic once I met Bella.” Edward goes on to explain that Bella is a singer and what the means.

This time when you pull your wrist away he lets go. “So all this time down the drain because she smells good?”, You’re furious again. “No..it’s so much more. I…love her, i’ve never felt this way about anyone before.” Your heart falls out of your stomach and onto the hard garage floor , you swear you can see it beating as Edward continues.

“I didn’t want this to happen this way. You were such a good friend to me. I know it was a long time for you but in my state it was only a few minutes. You’ll get over me and live a long and happy life with someone who truly loves you.”, You look at Edward, genuinely look at Edward as the monster he is. You want to punch him but you know it’ll hurt your bruised body more than it’ll ever harm his.

You think about arguing or bashing the windows out of his Volvo but you squeeze your hand into a tight fist instead because what you really want to do is drop to your knees and sob. “Well, good luck. Can you move now?”, You ask Edward, voice cracking. He shakes his head no, “I’m sorry but… I need your help. James is an excellent tracker and without your disguising spell she’ll die.”

You scoff, crossing your arms, “Fuck you, Edward. Now move.” You try to go around him but he’s in front of you again, this time on his knees. It reminds you of when he begged you for forgiveness not too long ago.

“Please, Y/N” He takes both your hands in his and you don’t look at him as a few tears escape your eyes. You couldn’t believe this was genuinely happening. Just a few months ago you were hoping to move out of Forks with Edward now he was on his knees begging you to save his beloved.

“I said no. Now get away from me.” Edward doesn’t budge, “Y/N, please. I’ll do anything. You’re a good person, please don’t let her die. Help Bella so I can kill the vampires that did this to you.” The rest of his plea falls on deaf ears.

Edward babbles on and on before you finally tell him to shut up. He does instantly. You rip your hands from his, “I’ll help her even though she knew we were in a relationship-“ Bella doesn’t meet your eyes when you look at her, “Because you’re right. I’m not a monster like you and I don’t want her death on my hands. Let it be on yours.”

You roughly snatch a lock of hair from Bella’s head and begin saying the words. When you’re finished you don’t turn towards Edward and speak openly, “It won’t disguise her completely but it’ll give her a better chance.” as you walk out the garage you don’t look back and Edward doesn’t stop you.

⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚

The liquor burns your throat and the music is too loud as you wobble through you and Nina’s going away party. When you told Leah that you accepted the offer and would be moving to California with Nina she insisted she throw you two a party.

You agreed even though you weren’t in a parrying spirit and drank your sorrows away as you watched everyone else have fun as they danced by the roaring fire.

It seemed like only one person was as sad as you so you sat by the sorrowful boy as he sipped from his red cup. “What’s got you down?” You asked Jacob, you’re surprised he can understand you with the way you were slurring.

His brown eyes don’t leave the fire, “You remember the girl I was telling you about?”, You nod and Jacob continues. “She’s wrapped up with these-“ Jacob stops himself, eyes flickering to you. It sounded like he was ready to say vampires but it could just be your drunk and sad mind playing tricks. “These freaks and now she’s hurt pretty bad. I’m just worried about her.” Your mind grinds to a halt as you try latch on to a memory through your inebriation.

You remember your mom coming home and telling you about a girl, Bella, getting admitted due to a really bad fall. You knew better, you were surprised she survived the run in with the vampire. But this can’t be the mystery girl.

“Oh, i’m so sorry.” You say, feigning sadness as you reach out and pat Jacob’s muscular back. “What’s her name? My mom could check on her.”, Jacob sighs, Her name is Bella but it’s okay, I think I can visit her tomorrow.” You want to projectile vomit in Jacob’s face but you hiccup instead.

You were soooo tired of hearing that bitches name. In your drunken state you begin laughing , you aren’t too sure why but it’s better than the first option.

“What’s funny?” Jacob asks, eyes laced with confusion. What the hell, you think and you tell him everything. And while Jacob is trying to process his thoughts you look at him, really look at him and you’re talking before you can stop yourself. “You know you’re too hot to let her string you along like this.” Jacob’s thick, dark eyebrows shoot up at your words causing you to laugh.

A smug smirk erases the surprise on his face, “You’re not the first person to tell me that.”, you smirk back at him, gripping his bicep for balance. You were close to him now so you were able to smell his earthy, sandalwood scent, “That you’re hot or that she’s leading you on?”, Jacob gives a hearty laugh before he quips back in his deep voice, “Both.”

For some reason your drunk brain takes this as permission to kiss Jacob. Your lips briefly touch his before he’s lightly pushing you away, even going the extra mile to take a step back.

“What are you doing, Y/N? You know how I feel about Bella.” You look at him dumbfounded, “Did you hear anything I said? Bella’s with Edward.”, Jacob’s brown eyes don’t meet yours, “I know.”, Jacob sips from his cup again, “but she loves me and i’ll be there for her when that blood sucker fucks up.”

You scratch your head in genuine confusion, “No, Jacob you deserve someone who appreciates you, who would’ve chosen you first-“ , Jacob looks up at you now, brown eyes resembling the fire that warmed your cheek.

“Like you?”, Jacob laughs, “I’ve talked to you a hundred times and you never thought of me like that. You’re only trying to kiss me now because Bella stole your boyfriend.” He looks down at you, “You’re just jealous.”, It would’ve felt better if he would’ve punched you.

You apologize for the whole…experience and take a sip of your drink before turning towards Nina’s house. You wondered if Jacob was right the whole walk there.

⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚

The pounding on your door woke you up sometime in the afternoon. You threw a pillow over your head to block out the noise but that only worked for a moment.

“I’m up!”, You shouted, throwing the covers off your body before getting out of the bed. You maneuver around the piles of clothes on the floor, you meant to pick them up but you had been in too much of a funk since the party.

You pull open the door to reveal your mom and dad. Your dad is holding a camera to his glasses but your moms smiling face drops when she sees your disastrous state.

When her eyes take in your room she looks concerned, “Y/N, why aren’t you getting ready..your rooms a mess…” You shrug, “I told you i’m not going to prom.” You sit on your bed and look at the window across the room. You try not to think about Edward’s shimmering skin as the sun bounces off it. “I don’t have a date either.”,

Your mother tsks, “you don’t need a date you have Nina.”, You lay back with your arm covering your eyes. “Nina’s bringing Embry. I’m not being a third wheel.” Your mother sits on your messy bed and pats your knee, “You’re so pretty someone will have to dance with you.”

“Now, get up and get dressed. Your father and I took off work for this.”

You feel embarrassed walking into the dance with no one your arm. Your sage dress shimmers under the lights as you walk to an open table and sit.

But your mother was right. You did have to wait a couple of songs but a cute boy from the football team asked you to dance. Nina gives you a thumbs up across the dance floor from over Embry’s shoulder.

Your partner turns you in a way where you have a clear view of a brunette in a blue dress and a boot across the dance floor. Edward and Bella don’t see you, too busy in their own world. You turn back to the boy in front of you and plaster a smile on your face.

Epilogue

You hum a tune as you jog up the stairs to you and Nina’s apartment. You thought about the homework you had to do as you pressed the 3rd button on the elevator.

Nina was cooking when you made it inside, the delicious smell sending your stomach growling. You were ready to investigate what was in the skillet when she yells out, “Hey, you got some mail!”

You turn your attention from the kitchen to the mail bowl beside you. A crisp, white envelope is addressed to you in sprawling, cursive letters.

You open it with Nina over dinner, both your mouths drop when you read what the letter says.

A invitation to Edward and Bella’s wedding.

206 notes · View notes